The Princess and The Sorcerer
by Lady Aileas
Summary: Politics force Agrabah into an alliance with The Black Sand. While Aladdin's incompitence threatens to overthrow the monarchy, Jasmine will discover the true meaning of Power and her own role as a leader. M/J  AU from "Secret of Dagger Rock".
1. Intro: Freedom and Servitude

**Disclaimer: **Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

**Introduction **

**Freedom and Servitude**

She had closed her eyes against the oppressive heat of the banquet hall some minutes ago, but the sweltering humidity seemed able to seep through the thin lids and sting her eyes regardless of this fact. No one took notice her relaxed state, even though she sat so near the head of the table that she could smell her father's aftershave over the thick incense that blanketed the room. Slowly, Jasmine opened her eyes to meet the side of her fiancé's head as he listened to the visiting diplomat's detailed opinions on the current state of Agrabah's finances.

Jasmine tried in vain to get his attention for several minutes, before surrendering the idea entirely. Joining his conversation would only provoke her temper and cause yet another unseemly outburst that would no doubt be relayed to her father's new ally in full detail when the man returned to his sovereign. She let out a small sigh and received a consoling pat on the hand from her father, even as he remained engaged with yet another of his countless advisors on the subject of trade routes. Without anything to focus her gaze or intellect on, she closed her eyes again and attempted to discern the musician's melody over the sound of the men's conversing. She tried to hum the tune softly but kept losing it due to…

"… Furthermore, the current economic state suggests that…"

"... Would be unwise to travel so near…"

"… Decline of crops for the past few years in neighboring territories…"

"… Has been out of control for some time…"

"… Your resources are going to waste without…"

"… One wonders after hearing such tales, what lurks in the Land of Black Sand…"

Jasmine opened her eyes rather abruptly at the mention of the Black Sands. Her throat closed as so many emotions tried to force themselves up from the bed of her sub-conscious. She was prevented from sorting them out by the slap of muscle and bone meeting wood. Her own body tensed at the sound as the foreign Diplomat turned his increasingly loud arguments from Aladdin's humble ears to her father's.

"Honestly your Majesty, I cannot fathom your reluctance to capitalize on this venture. My uncle, King Amid would happily support…"

The man was instantly quelled by the look of startling fury on her father's merry face. His bejeweled hand sparkled in the low light as he raised it to signal his interruption of the tense silence that had overtaken the entire table.

"I am, by nature, not a man to reject counsel," he stated softly, and Jasmine cringed inwardly at the thought of all of Jafar's 'council' that her father had willingly accepted over the years," but I will not be bullied by an ignorant stranger at my own table. As the closest Kingdom to the Land of the Black Sands, I am in the best position to judge the risks involved with attempting to travel over Destane's border."

At this, Aladdin made a small noise of disgust. He all but spit the sorcerer's name onto the table with his next statement.

"Mozenrath, your Majesty. Destane's apprentice overthrew him some time ago."

The Sultan nodded his head lightly in an admission of error, folded his hands and signaled for his future son-in-law to continue.

Aladdin's eyes took on a strange glow at this sign of faith and continued.

"No one knows much of the Land of Black Sand, and not much has been recorded. But according to Genie," at this, a general look of open envy glinted of the faces of the foreigners present," There have always been powerful Sorcerers struggling for domination over the area. He even suspects that there might be some unknown magical qualities to the land itself, hidden_ in_ the sands."

He allowed this information to seep in for a moment, much like when he explained things to Abu and, occasionally, herself.

"I still do not see the danger present," The man at Aladdin's right said with more smugness than was warranted in Jasmine's eyes," if this _Mozenrath _has indeed overthrown Destane, then why can we not make an ally of him? There is no need to assume that the boy takes after his master so strongly that he will not listen to reason. There is much profit to be made in an alliance."

"That would be impossible."

A loud murmur went through those present as Jasmine spoke up for the first time that evening. Her father expressed for her to continue, and she felt their poisonous glances graze her skin as she did so.

"A few weeks ago, Mozenrath attacked my Fiancé and myself and took Aladdin captive in hopes of acquiring the Jinni. During _my_ rescue, I imprisoned the sorcerous brat in a crystal, where, to my knowledge, he remains."

General looks of shock and outrage filtered down the table at her admission, but all she felt was the reassuring squeeze of Aladdin's hand finding hers beneath the table. She knew that her actions had been justified; she did not need their understanding.

Her father's advisor, she struggled to remember this one's name, made a choking noise as he raised his head to make eye contact with something other than his lap.

"Then the activity recently… all of the caravans said to be disappearing off the northern route, this _could _be the unrestrained actions of the Black Sands?"

The smug smile on the Diplomat's face sharpened to a point as he used her admission to fuel his victory. He turned his newly found weapon on her father and fired his shot with both strength and accuracy.

"It seems an uncharacteristic choice for a leader as great as yourself to deny your Kingdom the power, riches, and it seems, overall security that would come from forging such an alliance, simply because of the irrational tantrums of a teenage girl."

Jasmine found herself unable to move as the look on her father's face shifted quickly, too quickly, from one of outrage to contemplation. She knew in her heart that this man had found her father's weakness and exploited it perfectly. The Sultan of Agrabah had been the butt of many a joke over the wild behavior of his only child since the time of her birth. Now in the presence of representatives and royalty from across the seven deserts, the truth had been bared to those who would use it until each of their pet projects was sanctioned and fully funded by the crown of Agrabah. Something inside her cracked a little as she realized that defending her actions would mean opening up both himself and her future husband to ridicule. Power would pass from her father to Aladdin, and not to Jasmine. She was a woman and despite the truth of their private relationships, she could not appear to be calling the shots over either of the men in her life if their rule was to be preserved.

"While I do not believe that Jasmine would have taken such drastic actions on the basis of a tantrum, I will consider the idea of a meeting with this young Mozenrath. At the very least, he should be freed and returned to his kingdom. If what Aladdin suspects is true, then the desert is far too dangerous to remain unsupervised for much longer."

Aladdin's hand dropped hers in surprise and she felt something icy trickle down her spine even in the muddy haze of incense and cooked meats. Mozenrath would be freed. As she considered the implications of her father's decision, a dark thought that she had not allowed herself to have outside the comfort of her sheets whispered softly in her ear. It drowned out the noise of private conversations being resumed and dishes being cleared away. It filled up her head and thrummed through her joints as she shivered under its weight

_He is coming for you Princess._

This whole idea was born from the Episode "The Secret of Dagger Rock" in the TV series. I've always been a big fan of Moze and would have liked to see his character developed more. This story is pieced together from a few points raised in the first two episodes he appears in.

1. Mozenraths's kingdom "The Land of Black Sands" is less than a days journey from Agrabah, making that extremely close considering Jasmine and Co. travel by camels and not carpet. This is more or less confirmed by Iago when he mentions that Jafar knew of Destane and avoided him. Avoided like the weird neighbor who you really wish didn't know where you lived.

2. Moze mentions twice that he conquered his Kingdom after he stopped working for the man, meaning Destane didn't control the whole sandbox. And since nobody had heard about these interesting developments over at the Chateau Undead, this must have happened recently. This is confirmed when, after the guy glues Al to a rock and gets dropped into his own trap by a girl, the Sultan suddenly decides he needs to spy on his neighbor and finds out about the Wind Jackal. This means that the Sultan either decides that Mozie is _way _more serious business than Destane or he some how got access to the Citadel. Me? I'm guessing the latter.

3. I'm kinda wondering how Moze managed to get out of a crystal that was supposed to trap the Genie… considering that in the first episode he appears in, the guy surrenders because he knows he's no match for Big Blue. I think somebody had to let him out. And since only a few people knew where he was, and he just happened to blurt out the words that would spit him out of the giant crystal of Ix in front of those individuals, I'm guessing those were the culprits.

Thank you so much for reading! Keep in touch!


	2. Chapter 1: Of Silence and Scepters

**Disclaimer: **Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

**Chapter 1**

**Of Silence and Scepters**

That night, after Aladdin and Jasmine said their formal goodbye in the foyer, and their decidedly less than formal goodbyes on her balcony, Jasmine found her thoughts circling around a disturbing, but all too familiar subject.

The heat of dinner and all it's implications had left her as she ascended to her rooms that evening. The cool marble of the palace walls had absorbed every injustice, leaving only the heavy lump in her throat from earlier and a sense of cold loneliness that she was only beginning to understand. Even Aladdin's amorous caresses could not dispel the heaviness she felt. With icy guilt in her heart, she had turned him away after only a few minutes of his company.

Upon his departure, she retired to her rooms without sealing the heavy drapes behind her. She opted instead to dispel the light from her vanity lamp and let the pale moonlight bathe the room in sharp monotone. Even in the stark light of the moon, she could still make out half of her round face reflected in the mirror's surface. She leaned in to inspect the woman she saw there. There was nothing on her face in the night that did not show itself during the day. But only this light could reveal the secrets her eyes hid from her heart.

There was a sadness in her that Jasmine could name, even if she didn't want to. Her affection for Aladdin was beginning to fail and she feared its root cause more than the inevitable end she saw on the horizon. Many would suspect it's death from their nearly insurmountable socio-economic differences, but the weapon that had destroyed their paradise was actually a tool of her own making.

The Princess in the mirror narrowed her eyes as Jasmine remembered the thrill on Aladdin's face when her father had allowed him to correct a royal error, and then step into the conversation like… and here the wet gleam of tears appeared on the other princess' face… like an equal. The pressure in her throat was growing, but the serene woman in the mirror remained completely still as silent tears fell from her eyes.

She knew that this poison, this jealousy, was something she had crafted during the long seasons of her youth, before Aladdin had been anything more than a faceless suitor in her future life. Jasmine knew its bitterness would not make her a man. Just as she knew that if she left him, she would encounter the same problem with any suitor she chose to be her husband.

She allowed the tears to make their slow track down her face for a few more moments before she walked to her washbasin to retrieve the towel she found there. As Jasmine removed the evidence of her sorrow and the rest of her make-up she began considering the incident involving Mozenrath.

The lump in her throat spread downwards in a warm wave of anger. But for all of her fury, she could not deny one simple fact: It had felt good to be challenged like that. She had worried for Aladdin of course, her affection for him was sincere (if a little bit strained), but she had paid more attention to the challenge he'd presented to her mind than the pang of loss in her heart. His disparaging comments had only fueled the fire of her temper. It was the determination to see that look of shock on his face, to see the defeated look of a man who has completely underestimated his enemy that had driven her to the edge of her father's kingdom.

She returned the cloth to it's resting place with more vigor than was strictly necessary and let down her hair. Her thoughts circled on the Sorcerer as she viciously attacked her locks with a thin comb. Her rhythm raced with the beat of her heart as she allowed herself to recall the enemy whose defeat had been at her hands.

'…_Dainty, spoiled, WEAK!'_

His voice echoed in her head as she pulled the comb through the dark tempest of her hair until a brittle crack rang out against the silent walls and cleared her mind. With some considerable effort she removed her hands from the tangled mess she had created, and looked upon the broken comb that lay cradled in the palm of her hand.

Jasmine laid the casualty of her anger gently on the vanity. She tried to recall whom it had been a gift from, before giving up without much concern. With a huff of childish frustration she ran her fingers into her scalp and fluffed her hair four or five times before removing her day wear and sliding into the softer material of her sleep clothes.

As she lay down she decided that it made no difference if he was to be released. He had lost. To her. Period. And releasing him from his stony prison did not tarnish that victory, no matter what her heart felt. She would pity neither him nor herself. And she would most certainly not be afraid of his petty retribution.

Even with this thought, however, the same icy trickle of fear from earlier began to drip from the base of her skull.

Her last thoughts before sleep were of his black eyes, widened with terror and outrage as she released him from her grasp into the path of his own weapon, but her dreams were filled with his cruelties that echoed and magnified down the hallway of her insecurities.

"Good Morning Genie" she called out brightly as the blue vapors of the jinn's arrival parted to reveal his solid form. She quickly closed the books she'd been attending to prior to his arrival to give him her full attention.

Not that anything could have possibly distracted her from the sight he made, for as soon as she announced her greeting, he had conjured a desk and a wand of some kind and appeared garbed what could only be described as the ugliest patterned cloth the princess had ever laid eyes upon in her entire pastel covered life. She laughed as he raised her father's standard behind him and yelled into the stick…

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORNING Princess!"

There were a few moments of loud, pulsing music before another cloud of blue smoke revealed the Genie in his usual garb. He seemed totally unperturbed that his joke had just flown high over her head. His demeanor was quickly tailored to display as much non-chalance as a blue supernatural creature can show in the normal domestic scene that was the princess' private inspected his nails thoughtfully while stating in an even, questioning voice,

"So Al tells me that the _Wunderkind_ is to be released."

She remained quiet for a moment too long and watched the ear closest to her expand until the jinn's earring was the size of her vanity mirror while he waited for her reaction and grew extra fingers to examine over the long pause.

"It's true," she sighed, her spine curving uncharacteristically in defeat as she turned to the latticed window," I spoke with my father again this morning, but he says there's nothing for it. If Destane still, um, lived, no one would question the absurdity of forging an alliance, but since Mozenrath is relatively unknown and has managed to unite what was mainly a collection of warring territories, his advisors think that releasing him might be the key to finally gaining peace between the seven deserts."

"…And opening some rather lucrative trade routes to the north." She heard him mumble over her shoulder.

She turned to see the Genie hovering over the books on her desk contemplatively. He looked up and met her gaze for a moment before hopping onto the desk with a graceful bounce and flashing a sunny smile that said 'please continue'.

"And apparently our testimony is not enough to convince everyone that he's actually nothing but a destructive force out to reduce us all to shambling Mamluks. I'd like to know when kidnapping stopped being considered a crime and became a 'personal inconvenience'." She let out a a large huff as she recalled this comment from her earlier conversation with the new head viser.

His ten-thousand watt smile dimmed at the end of her statement but did not vanish completely as he held one of the books aloft "I see you've already started looking into solutions for this particular problem, but magical theory is a difficult thing to grasp…" he demonstrated by turning the book into sand that seeped through his hands, and then solidified it again between his thick fingers" … simply by reading."

"Exactly." She stated in a finalizing tone that only someone with her royal breeding could have achieved. "I was hoping you would have some insight as to how we might be able to, if not contain, limit his capacity for harm."

Genie flipped through the book silently for a moment before speaking in the most serious tone she'd heard from him all week. "What do you know about mortals that are able to use magic?"

Jasmine returned to her chair and thought silently for a moment before humming in a way that said she was stretching for an answer. The princess was suddenly startled to see small, blue-skinned replicas of all their mortal magical opponents begin to parade across the desk in front of her while posing and wearing ribbons from their shoulders that displayed their names across them. She watched as genie appeared as a small man in a suit who claimed that they would all be demonstrating their talents for the title of 'Miss Agrebah'. Jasmine let out a very un-princess-like snort before giggling like mad at the look of mortification that crossed Jafar's tiny blue features.

Ten minutes later, as she watched that same Jafar hypnotize a small Iago and make him tango across the stage, the answer hit her.

"The staff!" she exclaimed loudly, making the miniature ex-viser huff with indignation at the interruption and return to his place in line without lifting the spell from the still spinning Iago.

"They all require some magical object to manipulate their power through!" She cried again as genie placed a small crown on the parrot's head and the contestants disappeared in a cloud of moans and blue smoke.

"Very good Princess. As far as I can figure, Mozie gets all his power from here…"

Genie abruptly appeared as full sized Lord of Black Sand that towered over her while extending his right arm to her scrutiny. She found herself unable to examine the gauntlet as she let out a small half-breath and realized this was the closest she'd ever been to the sorcerer. Well, closest excluding that time she had kicked him in his smug mouth. Genie's eye's widened perceptively as she approached and leaned up to look into his face. The pale, smoothness of his countenance was only magnified by the confused expression the doppelganger was wearing. It made him look so…

"… So young," she mused aloud. And Jasmine might have continued her observation, if she hadn't noticed the pointed ears that were plainly visible through the folds of his headdress and the uncomfortable thumb twiddling that had begun in the center of his chest.

She shook herself lightly, and stepped away to examine the glove. Her voice was small when she finally replied.

"It seems like nothing at all, just normal leather."

Genie was immediately himself again without smoke or sound effects, and Jasmine suddenly felt very ashamed of her behavior. She drew her gaze up to his ageless eyes with an apology on her lips that died when she reached her destination. She could practically feel the millennia of knowledge that was contained within his vaporous form.

"Jasmine," he said softly, "curiosity is a disease of the young. I'm not going to lecture you on the dangers that can be associated with this affliction but know that should you develop some fascination with the Sorcerer Mozenrath the consequences, for you, will be disastrous."

Jasmine felt very uncomfortable with ambiguity contained in that statement. She knew that Genie would do anything for Aladdin, the boy that had freed him from a hundred lifetimes of servitude. But she was struck by the distinct impression that if the situation he described did come to pass, Mozenrath would not be the only danger. She reached for her spirit and steeled it before she crumbled and told the jinn every single one of her late night musings over the status of her relationship with Aladdin.

"I assure you that I was simply surprised. In my mind he is so similar to Jafar that I expected him to be…" she waved her hand in a meaningless gesture in front of her face that wound down slowly before she completed her thought, "older."

Genie smiled at her in a comforting way that dispelled her earlier worries and put an arm around her thin shoulders. "Of course you were kiddo! Why, if old Jafar had popped up out of nowhere in front of me, I'd have probably gawked for a minute too."

She smiled up at him and hugged him back in the reassuring way of old friends reconciled. "So, how can we limit the power of the glove?" she offered.

"Hm…" the jinn replied, and floated back to the desk to peruse some of her reading material while twisting the small loop in his beard around his fingers far more times than should have been possible considering it's length.

"I don't think that's going to be an easy question to answer, Princess," he said after some minutes. She returned from her examination of the room's only potted plant to find him staring down at a map of the seven deserts. He traced one blue finger over the border between Mozenrath's domain and her father's Kingdom and frowned deeply.

"I assume that Al mentioned my theory about our little buddy's homeland, right?" Jasmine nodded in affirmation before Genie moved his had away to reveal the border undulating and pushing further out from the sorcerer's citadel in every conceivable direction.

"If my theory is correct, and Jafar Jr. is the only thing holding that place together, then our question isn't 'How?' but 'If?' limiting his power is even possible considering the circumstances." Genie said this in the quick, resigned way of someone who dislikes giving bad news, but the knowledge was no easier for either of them to bear. They stood side by side, leaning heavily on her already over-burdened desk, as Jasmine contemplated how such a lovely weather could be just outside her window, and feel so far away at the same time.

Jasmine was about to ask if they should consider replacing the "royal pain" as ruler of The Black Sand, when Genie jumped up beside her and shouted a loud "EUREKA!" that left her ear drums clattering in surprise.

She gave the blue 'Whooping' creature circling her ceiling another thirty seconds before calmly asking for an explanation, which he was more than willing to provide.

He leaned down conspiratorially in yet another outfit made of the horrid fabric, complete with headgear this time, she noted absently.

"The plan is simple, first we offer something that Mister Magic Collector won't be able to refuse as a peace offering, and second…" his voice dropped even lower as he explained the second part of the plan, "we use it to spy on him. Think about it! Then we'll know how much power he needs just to run his kingdom and then we can look into limiting his potential for worldwide domination."

Jasmine reeled in confusion. "Okay, Genie, I'll buy that spying on Mozenrath would probably be a safe course of action no matter what. But how are we going to get the most paranoid sorcerer in the world to accept this gift and trust that it's not a ploy that should be destroyed?"

At this the jinn's smile became as sly as Iago's. "By giving him something that he wants very, very badly and that we want to get rid of even more. Mozie loves _power_. And it just so happens that a certain guy who used to live here had the same obsession _AND_ left all of his stuff behind."

Jasmine questioned the wisdom of giving the sorcerer any more tools that could help him subdue Agrabah's defenses. But there was one item… she smiled up at Genie as the connections formed in her mind.

"I don't suppose that broken scepter has any power left in it…"

"Nope!" the jinn replied with vigor, "Not that Little Lord Nasty knows anything about that. He was probably still scrubbing out Daddy's cauldrons when we defeated Jafar."

The princess sighed heavily, running her fingers through the roots of her hair in a soothing gesture before meeting turning and heading for the door.

"It's not the best course of action, but we don't have many options at this point. I'll go advise my father of our solution." She was halfway between the closing doors before she jerked back with "And give Aladdin my lo-" but the jinn had already vanished in his customary manner of blue smoke.

A/N- Hello again. This chapter is a little bi-polar on purpose, but I hope it wasn't too disjointed. I was trying to illustrate the difference between Jasmine's daily life and her private thoughts. I've always felt that night time is when the things you avoid thinking about all day long start swirling around and demanding your attention. Plus Genie is just so much fun to write. Give me a shout out if anybody's reading this! I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 2: Choosing your battles

**Disclaimer: **Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

**Chapter 2**

**Choosing your battles**

The Sultan handed the matter of Mozenrath's release over to his Royal Counsel and, partially due to Jasmine's own streamlining of their bureaucratic process; the matter had been resolved in only three days time.

Those three days following the feast had included a great deal of contemplative silences, followed by irrational outbursts that left most of Jasmine's handmaidens cowering in her closet. Of course the palace residents took note of her change in mood, but the blame was laid at the feet of the usual monthly suspect and no further questions were asked on the subject. The three nights were spent in a similar fashion, split between dark dreams of the walking undead and maniacal laughter that chased her into the darkest corners of her heart.

It took Jasmine a full day and a half to notice her irrational behavior.

The day after her discussion with Genie, Aladdin arrived in search of her company and, she strongly suspected, a decent meal. Having no desire to return to the scene of her most recent public embarrassment, they took the evening meal together in her rooms. Genie entertained himself and Iago by changing Abu into different items and having the parrot guess the names and purposes of each. Considering the jinn's penchant for time-travel, Jasmine found the majority of the game to be immensely unfair to the sour tempered bird.

Their meal had been oppressively quiet and although she knew Aladdin suspected the cause, he was unwilling to broach the topic. He had taken to wandering around the room with pieces of food pinched between his greasy fingers as he ate. She shuddered a little at the sight. Jasmine was still picking at the remains of her dessert when Aladdin spoke up from the vicinity of her dresser.

"How did this happen?" his voice was careful and uncharacteristically quiet.

Jasmine looked up to see him cradling the broken pieces of the comb as one might hold the most delicate glass, or the greatest of treasures. The anger in her chest began to heat and bubble at the memory of that night, but she was heavily restrained by guilt. How could she have forgotten? His mother's…

Aladdin's gaze hardened when she didn't answer.

"Jasmine, how could you be so careless? I would have thought that someone who was raised with as many nice things as you would know how to take care of them!" his voice grew steadily louder until he stood on the threshold of shouting. "It might not be gold or silver, but it's one of the few things I have left of her and I _trusted_ you with it!"

She found her eyes tearing up from the effort required to not shout back. However, Aladdin mistook the reason for their appearance and immediately calmed himself. He moved to the chair beside her and reached out to offer comfort. She resisted his supportive embrace.

"Jaz, look, I'm sorry I yelled. I know you would never have broken it on purpose." He wiped a tear from her cheek as he said this and gave her a false half smile.

Her chest contracted on the anger and Jasmine felt guilt overwhelm her at having destroyed so precious an item. 'Over what?' she asked herself as she hung her head down to stare at Aladdin's threadbare knees. But the answer was the same one that had been floating around her head for the past 36 hours.

_Mozenrath._

She must have spoken the name aloud, for in the next instant Aladdin's entire frame tensed. She raised her head slowly, as if the weight of all her responsibilities physically lay on her simple headpiece. The fact that she was completely unable to decipher the look on his face made it all the more difficult to hold his gaze. Aladdin spared her the shame of looking away first.

He sighed heavily as he stood and moved towards the empty balcony. She wondered bleakly at what point Genie and the others had left. He stopped at the threshold and seemed to consider something hard. He must have reached a decision on the point he was considering, because he abruptly turned and retraced his steps with greater speed than he had previously displayed. He took the chair across from her this time.

"I know that this _thing_ about Mozenrath is upsetting you," he began, once again enunciating the man's name as if it were a slur. "What I don't understand is why it's bothering you so much."

Jasmine felt a small pinch of laughter bubble up inside her as she considered telling him that she was wondering the same thing.

He was quiet long enough that she realized that he was going to wait for an answer. She was just as interested as to what her response would be as he was.

"It was my victory. I beat him fair and square all on my own and they're going to take that away from me." She disliked the tone of her voice as she said this, but it couldn't be helped. Jasmine had promised herself to stop whining years ago.

"But Jaz, we've beaten lots of bad guys! Why should this one matter so mu-" She cut him off there.

"No! _You _have beaten lots of bad guys. And I've helped. Mozenrath's defeat was entirely mine. Now he's going to be released on the small technicality of him being the ruler of a malicious wasteland and me being a capricious female!"

She let out an angry snort that made Aladdin's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. She turned to face the wall, but found herself staring into the mirrored version of her own anger. Jasmine abruptly refocused her gaze on Raja's sleeping mat.

"I didn't know you felt this way. I've always seen our victories as just that, _ours_." She bit her tongue to keep from lashing out. Apparently he was challenged when it came to recognizing just how much of the glory he was constantly taking for himself. Sometimes she honestly couldn't understand how Genie was unfazed by his behavior.

He was trying to pull her eyes to him, but she was determined not to let him see the anger there.

"I know you're upset now, but soon you're going see how pointless it is to keep getting mad over this. We've beaten Mozenrath and others like him before, and if he get's his turban in a knot again, we'll just have to remind him of that." Aladdin might have sounded a little too excited at the prospect of "reminding" the sorcerer of his defeat, but she didn't comment on it.

As upset as she was over Aladdin's arrogance, the princess found a small measure of relief in his statement. Yes, they had beaten him before. They could do it again. She could do it again.

Jasmine was finally was able to meet his eyes and felt moved by the genuine concern she found there. The princess took the first step and reached across the table to hold his hand.

"I am sorry about your mother's comb", she said softly. And she meant it.

"It's ok. I told you I knew it wasn't on purpose. I think my Dad carved it for her out of some old bone for a wedding present. It probably wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway." His smile was as brittle as his words.

Jasmine knew all to well the pain Aladdin felt for his lost mother. She sympathized considering that she had never met her own mother the queen. Yet, she knew for a fact that had their situations this evening been reversed, she would not have been as understanding as this orphan who had watched helplessly as the woman who gave him life wasted away from disease.

As her fiancé moved forward to place a kiss on her lips, Jasmine resolved to let the issue of the sorcerer rest for the time being.

* * *

The princess was formally informed of the counsel's decision late in the afternoon of the third day. She spent some time afterward walking the familiar paths of her private gardens in the receding heat. Raja had grown tired of following her constant movement and was currently reclined in the shade of a large tree panting heavily, with one yellow eye lazily focused in her direction.

Jasmine herself was moving from one flowering bush to another, allowing her nostrils to soak up the sweet scent of life. The sun inched closer to the horizon with each passing minute and the warm wet of evening was descending on her refuge like a fog. Eventually the rising humidity forced her to recline on the edge of the fountain, dipping her toes in while she re-read the missive in her hand for the umpteenth time that hour.

She understood their logic and even agreed on the course of action they had chosen. But not even understanding could dispel the unease in her gut. Fear was mixing with injured pride to create a volatile cocktail than churned with each sweep of her eyes along the page. She ran her fingers along the smooth line of ink illustrating his formal title and felt a distinct shiver of anticipation. She could beat him again. Anytime she wanted to. Anytime he felt the need to challenge her. She was almost looking forward to his release.

Her excitement was cooled by the knowledge of what was to come. Jasmine waited quietly in the fading light. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Aladdin and the others would have heard the news by now. He would arrive soon and beg her not to go. She knew it like she knew her name. However, she would not allow him to talk her out of this. As the Sultan's daughter and the so-called 'hostile' party, it was her responsibility to meet with Mozenrath in the desert and discuss the terms of a truce.

Aladdin's exclusion from the expedition had had more to do with his (she quoted the missive again in her head) 'personal conflict' with the Lord of Black Sand than his current political status. 'But' she thought ruefully, 'there is a comment being made regardless of the given reason.' She frowned at the implications.

Raja lifted his head with a slow flick of his ears in a gesture that said he had heard something, but was unconcerned for her safety. She had to respect the kind of perception it took to be able to discern the soft sound of thread riding on the evening air. She rose to meet them as Carpet landed gracefully at her side and steadied herself for the arguments to come.

.

.

.

Later that evening, after Aladdin's fears were soothed and his concerns addressed, Jasmine prepared for bed with a new sense of purpose. In a little under a week she would be traveling to dagger rock with a small contingency of loyal guards and her father's Chief Advisor, Hasim. While she seriously doubted that the guards themselves would pose any threat to the sorcerer, the small bag of magical tricks Genie had promised her earlier would certainly put a limp in his step if he tried to cross her. Between that and the fact that Aladdin had convinced her to take Carpet as an exit strategy, Jasmine felt relatively sure that she would be meeting the sorcerer on her terms. And only her terms, she thought with a smile.

Her gaze was drawn to the broken comb, which lay across her vanity table with it's shattered pieces in place as a body being reassembled for eternal rest. She ran the fleshy pads of her fingers over it's smooth surface and wondered at the surprising texture of the material. Not cold, like the gold, silver and bronze of her usual adornments but slightly warmed. As if it was made to both absorb the bearer's warmth and use it to create an internal flame of it's own. She felt the sharp ridges of the ornamental carvings that were so at odds with the natural bows and ripples of the surface and decided it would have been just as beautiful in it's natural state without the embellishments. Jasmine lifted the dull ivory surface of the largest fragment to her lips for a moment, praying a small silent prayer for forgiveness from Aladdin, before laying the pieces to rest under the velvet lining of her jewelry box.

Sleep was elusive after she retired to her bed, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that she was prepared for the tasks ahead. Jasmine reminded herself repeatedly to be especially greatful for the temporary comfort of her matress and was lost to the haze of sleep a short time later. What the Princess could not have known, as she slipped through consciousness into a deeper and deeper slumber, was that she and Mozenrath shared an unexpectedly large number of personality traits. And while it would not be fair to criticize Jasmine for making the same mistake the sorcerer had made only three weeks prior, it is important to note that she was seriously underestimating the man by assuming that he was not ready and waiting for her arrival with a number of tricks stuffed up his voluminous sleeves.

* * *

A/N- Hello again. I seriously hope I have figured out this formatting thing now, it must be hurting your eyes to have all those paragraphs squished together! Couple of short notes for a short update: I really wanted to bring in Moze at the end of this chapter, but then Aladdin popped his head in and demanded some more of my time. I'm trying to establish where he and Jasmine stand before our charismatic leading man pops in offers his sarcastic input. I promise that the Captain of Cadavers will be making his big dramatic entrance in the next chapter, which is all sketched out, I just need to find the time to put text to docx, if you catch my drift. I will probably update before Wed, but I make no promises. Thank you so much to those of you that have taken the time to review! It means the world to me to know that you're enjoying this. Catch ya later!


	4. Chapter 3: When we meet again

**Disclaimer: **Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

**Chapter 3**

**When we meet again…**

The day of Mozenrath's liberation dawned clear and bright across the desert sky. Jasmine observed this as a good sign for the day's proceedings and had even gone so far as to tell Aladdin she might be able to return that very evening on Carpet if things went well.

Not that Hasim would allow such 'foolishness,' regardless of the outcome.

Her earliest memories of the old vulture all included the words "No" and "Do try to behave," usually in that order. He was a small, hunched man well known for his shrewd practicality and Jasmine's father relied heavily on the man's logical faculties for his decision-making in regards to Agrabah's finances. While she knew in her heart that she would rather see this man at her father's side than Jafar, there were a number of things about him that unsettled her deeply.

The thought of spending a day and a half with the vizier was almost too much to bear for the young princess. Her father had picked him as an impartial mediator to smooth over certain 'disagreements' and 'unpleasantries' between herself and the twisted wizard. The fact that she had wanted to scratch both men's eyes out on separate occasions didn't bode well for peace talks.

It was going to be an interesting day.

The Princess' entourage met on the cobblestone path outside the palace stable a short time after the sun began its relentless trek across the clear skies. Jasmine arrived uneasy after an uncomfortable breakfast with her father. Apparently the Sultan had not foreseen this particular outcome when he first decided to move forward with peace talks. Jasmine was both warmed and ashamed that her father's ability to lead his people was so strongly wrapped up in his desire to keep her safe.

Rasoul and four royal guardsmen were already engaged in various tasks when she made her way out of the palace gates. The smells of Agrabah quickly assaulted her nose and Jasmine had to remind herself that gagging was defiantly not regal behavior. She endeavored to maintain her composure while quickly passing the piles of discarded 'fertilizer' to join fevered activity of the guards. Rasoul was busy loading his person with every manner of dangerous object the princess could imagine while the others sharpened, scraped, saddled and, she noticed with a smile, even slumbered.

"Ah, attention men! Make way for the princess!" The Captain rasped out after noticing her arrival. She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, hoping that it would bring an end to the cacophonous ruckus that ensued as the men tried to both jump to attention and bow respectfully in the same instant.

Jasmine moved past them to sling the loops of her shoulder bag over the saddle horn of a larger male camel that Rasoul had probably meant for himself. She allowed herself a small smile at his expense when he realized the overly decorated monstrosity by the door was the only beast left for his use.

"Princess Jasmine, surely you would prefer…" he began with an exaggerated shrug of his sizeable shoulders.

"The stronger, more agile creature? Why yes I would Rasoul, thank you for your understanding." A number of hissing laughs came from Fazal's direction.

The large man's face continued to twitch in suppressed rage as he stormed off to intimidate one of the lower ranking men into giving up a less colorful mount. She almost laughed aloud.

"Causing trouble already, I see." Came the airy voice of the Vizier from the doorway.

Jasmine choked when she noticed Hasim's appearance. He emerged from the darkened stable shrouded in all the finery his position could afford him. The colors of the royal family were draped over his scrawny form in so many layers; she might have mistaken his rotund shadow for that of her father. He coughed lightly at her own choice of clothing.

"Surely your Highness has something more _appropriate_ for meeting with foreign rulers." He stated in a drawn out tone that put her teeth on edge.

"It matches," She replied dryly, and Jasmine held up the unornamented sleeve of her modest robe to illustrate her point. Hasim continued in his usual, bland tone.

"I assure you I meant no insult upon the royal taste, but your Highness is a _very _beautiful woman and your current garb simply does not display your assets to their fullest advantage." This statement was accompanied by a few hand gestures that made Jasmine more nauseous than the lingering smell of feces.

She felt her face heat up and tried to find somewhere to look that wasn't occupied by the surprised and even, she noticed with a sinking sensation, confirming looks of her guards.

Jasmine's vanity was a rather sizable blemish on her mostly virtuous character. She lowered her head to take in the flattering, but highly unrevealing outfit she had chosen and decided to let the insult go by unanswered. There was no way, in this dimension or any other, that she was going to let that sorcerer see more than the bare minimum of her exposed flesh. She remembered all too well the approving looks he had given in regards to her regular apparel.

Her memories of that heated gaze were interrupted when she realized what Hasim was truly saying underneath his critical comments.

He wanted her to look good, for Mozenrath. Her temper flared.

"I am EN-GAGED! There is no way I'm riding out into the middle of nowhere and putting myself on display for that murderous, egocentric LUNATIC so that you can live happily ever after with your trade agreements."

Hasim 'tsked' softly at her. "Temper, temper child. I am fully aware of your current arrangements with young Aladdin. I only meant to suggest that it would be unwise to alienate any potential suitors in case certain things… fall through."

He let that sink in for a moment before continuing.

"I have been lead to believe that this Sorcerer is young and extremely powerful. Any small advantage on our side must be utilized if these proceedings are to go smoothly."

There was a general hum of agreement from the men behind her, and she turned quickly to see all but Rasoul nodding thoughtfully. The Captain, for all of his dislike of Aladdin, had turned white as a sheet at the implications of Hasim's statement. The princess was suddenly very curious as to what sorts of impressions Rasoul had of magic and sorcerers after his dealings with Jafar. Or maybe Mozenrath had just proven to be a bit much for Old Rasoul the last time they'd traveled to Dagger Rock.

"Well, speak and he shall appear." Hasim announced with annoyance.

She turned to see Aladdin and Genie float down from the sky on their usual woven means of transportation. She quickly made a large show of bouncing over to her fiancé and giving him an overly amorous greeting that he was all too happy to reciprocate. The uncomfortable display prompted the guards' quick return to their work and Hasim's retreat into the safety of the stables with an exaggerated sniff.

"You didn't think I'd let you ride into mortal peril without saying goodbye, did you?" She smiled at him and took note of the envy in his eyes. Something inside her nearly purred with self-satisfaction with the knowledge that he was jealous. Aladdin _loved _peril.

"Of course not." She said softly, and perhaps a bit smugly.

"Plus Genie said you still needed some things."

The blue jinn in question abruptly pulled up in honking vehicle clad in a short brown suit. Too short, in Jasmine's opinion.

"Delivery for one Princess Jasmine." He said with flair and produced a box in a flash of blue and magenta smoke.

Aladdin removed the lid and slid his hands through the contents. The first item produced was a delicate head shawl. She frowned at further negative commentary against her fashion sense.

"It's magical. Genie says that it will keep Mozenrath from being able to manipulate your thoughts." Jasmine ran her fingers over the soft fabric and was touched that the jinn had taken the time to create such a lovely item for her protection. She turned to smile at him.

"Thank you Genie."

"Hey, no problem princess. Always a good idea to keep a clear head." In the next moment he demonstrated this point rather literally.

She lowered her head so that Aladdin could drape the material over her hair, which he did with care not to pull the long strands.

The next item he produced was nothing more than a thin metal bangle.

"This will help us find you if things should take a turn for the worst." She nodded, and slipped the cool gold over her left wrist.

The last item from the box turned out to be a small silver hand mirror. Aladdin held this up for her inspection and looked deep into the princess' eyes.

"This will allow you to contact me. I have the other one here." He produced a matching mirror from his belt before stowing it safely away again. "I know everyone else agrees that things will go better if Genie and I keep out, but if you need me, I'll come. All you have to do is call my name and I'll find you, no matter where you are."

He said this with fervor, and Jasmine felt a pinch of guilt at making him worry, especially when she was almost looking forward to the trip. Aladdin leaned in to touch his forehead to hers for a moment before pulling back to relay some instructions to Carpet.

Genie took this opportunity to produce the one magical item she had no desire to carry. The scepter was tightly wrapped in black silk that shielded her from its serpentine gaze. She and Genie had spent more than four hours looking through the royal treasury to find just the right stones to replace the eyes that Aladdin had smashed out to save her from a lifetime as 'Mrs. Jafar.' The jinn had mentioned that the stones had to be able to absorb magical energy in order for their espionage to work.

They had eventually decided to use the ruby earrings Jafar himself had conjured for her the night he seized power. She shuddered at the memory as she took the hated item from Genie's hands.

"Now remember, Mozenrath has to be the only one that touches this bad boy. Don't want to wind up getting a front row seat to the daily lives of one of those lot by accident." He threw a pointed look in direction of Rasoul's men.

"I'll be careful with it Genie." Jasmine promised.

He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and gave her a sad smile.

"Just remember to take care of yourself as well Princess. Don't let his boyish features fool you." She flushed at his tone. "That Kid's more twisted up inside than you can possibly imagine."

Jasmine agreed whole-heartedly.

* * *

If time passed within the Crystal of Ix, the sorcerer didn't notice. Mozenrath couldn't even fathom how he would have measured its passing in his current state. His body was trapped within the skin-tight shield he had cast before his absorption into the colossal stone. The spell was currently protecting the majority of his life force from being squeezed out like juice through a strainer, but it was also preventing even the smallest of movements as it battled against the drain of the surrounding rock. He occupied his mind by attempting to calculate how long the shield would hold, but without the ability to judge the passage of time, his predictions had become increasingly morbid.

He might have been better able to bear his current situation if everything wasn't so… grey. His field of vision was an even slate of dinginess that barraged his eyeballs and set a terrible throbbing in his left temple. Darkness he was accustomed to, even the overwhelming bright of the desert sun was better than the constant presence of this mediocre nothingness. Mozenrath wondered if he should check the fabric of his spell again…

But his sense of self-preservation decided it was a bad idea. The last inspection had shown more than a few key magical components breaking down and he was positive that if he obsessed about his impending doom he would be a raving lunatic by the time he was released. And it was the knowledge his impending rescue that had kept him sane thus far.

Mozenrath knew that he would be released from the crystal, just as he knew the name of his rescuer. The wizard fervently prayed that jealousy ate the filthy little beggar alive when Aladdin's meal ticket decided that she couldn't live with the guilt of killing another living being.

The princess might have surprised him that day, but there was one thing that the sorcerer believed he knew about her beyond a shadow of a doubt. That was her overwhelming need to be virtuous. Unlike Aladdin, who had probably faced off against enough opponents to recognize the value of a "greater good" mentality, Mozenrath could see naivety written all over the girl's face even as he'd fallen under the crystal's overwhelming power.

He could envision her sniffling away on her divan, bellowing dramatically about the unfairness of it all as she pawed away at whatever simpering creatures her father provided as pets. How Mozenrath wished he could smile as he contemplated the image of her conveying her guilt to dear Aladdin over how she had been responsible for his imprisonment. He could hear the gentle tones of her voice as she pleaded with her beloved to help her release the poor, misguided wizard from an early grave. A ghost of a thought rose up from the depths of his nightmares.

_Not as early as you'd think…_

The sorcerer tried everything he could think of to keep from falling into that depressingly bleak line of thought. His focused his inner eye on the image of Aladdin's princess, and considered her as an alternative to mental anguish.

She was young and beautiful, but that was common enough, even amongst the sorcerer's limited and mostly half-dead acquaintance. Truthfully, Mozenrath did not find himself particularly drawn to the soft curves of her feminine form, nor the graceful beauty of her face. No, it was the fiery temper in those eyes that had pulled him in and held his interest long enough for her to land a rather forceful blow with the toes he had once been willing to consider 'dainty'. What should have been an unflattering look of fury had transformed the girl into something he could be interested in. _Very_ interested in.

At least until she had gone off shouting painfully predictable hero-jargon.

All in all, Mozenrath determined the Princess to be an unfathomable collection of contradictions, like most women. But the combinations had turned out to be surprisingly fascinating. He was captivated by the challenge she presented. A malicious fantasy played across the grey of his imprisonment, of him stealing the girl away from her low-class consort before destroying them both. The idea had merit.

The sorcerer would continue to believe that she was coming, and that he would have the opportunity to seek out his revenge against her and Aladdin; because to give up hope would be to despair in his death. Somewhere deep inside him, Mozenrath felt disturbed that he had allowed his thoughts to so closely mirror those of Aladdin during his period of magical detainment, even if it was only in the privacy of his own mind.

With that unsettling thought swirling around his head, the young magician decided to begin reciting the names, ingredients and proper procedure for all the spells he could pull from memory. He began with the letter A.

The crystal released him four hundred and seventy-three cantations later, just as he had begun recalling the proper hand gestures for Trans-Dimensional Teleportation.

Mozenrath's first thought when he landed on the hard gravel of the canyon floor was that he infinitely preferred gravity to the sucking pressure of the crystal. His second thought was interrupted by the squelching splat of Xerxes' fishy body connecting with his throbbing head. Between that and the glaring brightness of the afternoon sun, the sorcerer let out a long stream of curses as his head pulsed with the beating of his heart.

There was the sound of a male throat being cleared somewhere in the glare that surrounded him, but Mozenrath had no intention of opening his eyes again to try and locate the individual.

_So the princess left you to die after all…_

He was oddly disappointed at the thought.

The male voice spoke up from somewhere to his left, "Captain, please escort his Lordship to the camp so that he might be made comfortable."

Mozenrath's eyes shot open at that. After another line of grumbled obscenities, his vision slowly cleared to reveal an elderly stranger clad in what could only be described as the most ostentatious clothing he'd ever seen. And he'd been _Destane's_ apprentice for nearly ten years. Behind this harsh faced man was the familiar one he'd been expecting since the last time he'd seen daylight.

Hatred and fascination warred within him as he decided that he had not recalled her beauty as accurately as he'd thought. Even in her dust covered robe and hijab, the Princess of Agrabah was an intriguing sight. Though the ugly scowl on her face wasn't doing much for her at the moment.

He used the hard surface of the crystal behind him to push against with his good hand as he clambered up to standing. Xerxes unconscious weight settled against his shoulders as the Lord of Black Sand assumed his full height.

A gorilla of a man that he recalled all to well moved towards him, most likely with the intent of "escorting" him to the camp. But Mozenrath wasn't having any of that. He lifted the gauntlet with the intent of sending the man flying into the cavern wall, but was surprised when the object did not respond. His shocked gaze locked with that of the equally confounded Princess and he knew that she had come to the same realization as him. The crystal had drained the glove's power. He was completely defenseless. Mozenrath felt a trickle of very real panic.

.

.

.

The princess recognized that Mozenrath's would-be show of strength had come across as a weak defensive gesture to those that had not seen his magic at work. Rasoul was all too happy to slap the sorcerer's hand aside and attempt to pick up his slender frame by the waist. She was moved by the look of fear on the young man's face.

"Rasoul don-" Jasmine's command was cut short as the wizard resisted and the side of the gauntlet forcefully connected with the crystal. The ancient relic abruptly began re-absorbing it's power from the giant magical magnet and Rasoul found himself desperately trying to hold on to the smaller man as his body was thrown aside by the tide of magical backlash. Mozenrath's face twisted in fury when the dust settled. She eyed the ominous glow of his magical hand with trepidation. His voice was uncharacteristically rough as he spoke.

"My, my Princess. And here I was thinking that our reunion would be full of starlight and romantic poetry." His eyes glinted with malice, "Oh well. Business as usual then." He raised the gauntlet high in a sweeping gesture before she moved directly into his line of fire.

"Lord Mozenrath," she began with a graceful bow borne from years of etiquette training, "I have come on behalf of my father, The Most Generous Sultan of Agrabah, who seeks an alliance with your kingdom that we might move forward together into more profitable ventures."

Whatever spell had been on his lips, died a sudden death as Mozenrath's great intelligence failed him. Jasmine restrained herself from making a quip about the way his mouth was gaping open and continued in a rehearsed tone.

"I stand before you as my father's humble servant, to ask for your for-" she faltered here and allowed herself a few cleansing breaths before standing up straight to look him in the eyes.

"Listen Mozenrath, I will _not_ ask for your forgiveness," She stated with purpose, as her eyes cut to Hasim for a brief moment, "But our previous conflicts are our own and do not belong the political arena. There are many benefits to an Alliance between Agrebah and the Land of Black Sand that were previously impossible due to the stubbornness of your former master. I have been instructed to release you and provide this information for your consideration."

His brain kicked into reboot and the sorcerer blinked slowly before smiling slyly at her.

"Poetry it is, my dear." He lowered the gauntlet gently and sauntered, there was no other way to describe how he walked, closer to her. Her heart sped up as she met his challenging gaze head on, Jasmine told herself it was from fear and not anticipation of any kind.

"I would love to hear more of your propositions," he said while adjusting the fit of his glove in a barely veiled threat, "I believe someone mentioned a camp near by?"

Jasmine felt her face heat up in the uncomfortable silence that followed.

The Vizier took this opportunity to reassert control of the situation and introduced himself with a far more flexible show of supplication than Jasmine could have managed.

"Lord Mozenrath, I am Hasim, Chief Advisor to His Royal Majesty the Sultan." Jasmine rolled her eyes and Mozenrath took note of it.

"I apologize for the Captain's over-zealous behavior my lord. I only wished to see you comfortable and rested before attempting to talk business. Surely a months repose in such an undesirable condition has left you feeling quite unwell."

Jasmine watched as several thoughts played across the sorcerer's face and his gauntleted hand shook with some intense emotion. She was suddenly feeling far more afraid of him than she had been a moment ago when he'd actually attempted to blow her face off. Mozenrath calmed himself and his eyes became distant and unfocused.

"A month... gone."

Jasmine could see the weariness express itself in the sorcerer's thin form. His voice seemed unbearably soft to her ears, like forced intimacy between them. She allowed herself to give in to the desire to snap at him, just to push the possible implications of his statement away.

"A lenient punishment for kidnapping and attempted murder." Jasmine was surprised at how guilty she felt, in spite of her anger.

He was suddenly very focused on her as he threw back, "All time is relative Princess. You can not possibly judge its value to anyone but yourself!"

His gaze burned with accusation.

"A wise observation, my lord." Hasim once again diffused the tension between them with his mild statement. Jasmine had never been more grateful for the impersonal tone in his voice.

"Shall we retire to the tents? It would seem that your... um," Hasim expressed some uncharacteristic confusion while gesturing to the creature draped around the sorcerer's shoulders. Mozenrath sighed heavily and decided to help him out.

"Eel. Xerxes is an eel." He stated this in a way that communicated just how many times he had been forced to relay that information.

"Yes, of course. Your eel seems to require some attention." Hasim finished as if he had known all along, and turned to walk back to the tents.

Jasmine watched with a small amount of fascination as Mozenrath drew the creature's length down from his shoulders and examined him thoughtfully.

"He will recover shortly. I am not concerned." He said to no one in particular.

But contrary to this statement, the sorcerer was very gentle as he slowly wound Xerxes unconscious body around his right arm to keep from jostling the small animal as he carried him.

"If you would lead the way Princess…" Mozenrath included this statement with a malicious look that said he would enjoy walking behind her very much indeed.

Jasmine huffed loudly in frustration and stomped off to the camp in the most masculine manner she could manage, the chuckling Sorcerer following close behind.

And one again the Crystal of Ix stood alone in the silence, with nothing but the unconscious heap of Rasoul for company.

* * *

A/N- I'm back! This was the most challenging chapter thus far. I spent a lot of time debating how I wanted to portray Moze's inner monologue, but I'm pretty happy with the results. I think that, while Jasmine is full of frustration, Mozenrath is filled with despair. Both of them are fighting against some pretty huge obstacles (societal convention and death respectively) but neither is getting anywhere simply by being angry. Moze is a little bit ahead of Jaz in that he seems able to let go of the inevitable a bit more and focus on getting the things that he wants while he still has time, where as she's still ignoring the problem.

On the lighter side, I am completely enjoying tormenting Rasoul. Don't know why, I just am. Next chapter will involve a lot of dialogue and both our main characters getting schooled. Should be fun! As always I love to hear from you guys. Ta Ta for now!

Kudos for those of you that found Jafar's line!


	5. Chapter 4: To Get What You Want revised

**Disclaimer: **Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

A/N- I apologize to everyone who read this chapter yesterday, only to have it pop up again today completely different. When I posted this last night I was really unhappy with it, but the wonderful Cantare (whose story 'Antiphony' pretty much sets the bar as far as Jas/ Moze is concerned) was willing to help me out of the little hole I was digging for myself. Please enjoy this revised version and let me know what you think!

As always, Thank You for reading! :-)

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**To get what you want**

Mozenrath stumbled several times as they made their way to the Princess' camp, but he'd played his part so well that the girl was too furious to notice. The wizard lifted his hand to his hairline to brush away the droplets that formed across his clammy brow. He had no intention of letting her know that he was still not entirely himself after she'd left him standing at death's door for an entire month! The acrid taste of hatred rose up from his gut and stung the back of his throat at the thought of her calm face as the Advisor informed him of the truth of her actions, or lack thereof. He clenched his magical hand around the eel to prevent himself from striking out at her unprotected back.

Not that she'd had any scruples about backstabbing when their situations had been reversed. He remembered his moment of near victory with impossible clarity and damned her again in his mind for taking the power of the jinn from him. He'd been so _close_ to getting everything he wanted and more. Then she'd gone and ruined it with a cowardly move born of weakness and too much time spent observing the behavior of common thieves.

How dare she release him and claim the moral high ground after achieving a cowardly victory! How dare she act self-righteous when she'd stolen so much of his dwindling life! It had taken months of communion with the black sand before he could bend it to his will and call himself it's Master. Now he'd lost even more precious time sitting in time out, simply because little Miss High and Mighty knew how to hold a grudge.

His mind swirled with the implications of her carelessness. The mamluks were unlikely to revolt in his absence, the sorcerer made sure they lacked that level of intelligence, but the magic of the sand was an entirely different matter. Mozenrath was beginning to realize why the Sultan had suddenly expressed the desire for an alliance. He cringed at the thought of the mess he was going to be cleaning up when he got home.

'_If the Citadel is still standing…'_

Thoughts of his home destroyed by rampaging magic conjured the image of priceless tomes ripped to shreds, rare potions tainted and destroyed as their protective flasks were smashed, and the fluorescent sands of his remaining life lost amongst the ashes. Mozenrath shook his aching head and tried to focus on reality. There was nothing to be gained by allowing himself to rage at speculation.

Not when he currently found himself at the mercy of Aladdin's spoiled shrew.

In the deadened place where his right arm had once been, the wizard felt the icy pinpricks of the gauntlet at work. It clawed up the bones of his forearm and sucked the heat from the muscle of his bicep as he performed a low-level healing spell. Mozenrath felt another throb behind his temple as the icy claws gripped higher and Xerxes' form twitched. It should not have required so much effort to revive the tiny creature, but he would not discontinue his attempts. The eel had proven to be an asset in more than one skirmish and Mozenrath was not taking any chances with the gauntlet's power so dangerously low.

He found it unlikely that the Princess knew anything about the crystal's power, and so his logic followed that she was probably ignorant of his current weakness. A good thing, considering he was uninformed of her strength. He considered the man they'd both left behind on the cavern floor. Who knew how much muscle the Princess had brought along with her or what magical tricks the jinn might have outfitted her with. Assuming she hadn't brought the entire gang along to ambush him as soon as he reached the tent. Though Mozenrath prayed fervently that she wasn't that stupid, for his own sake, considering the score between them stood in her favor... for the moment.

He seethed again, hating his powerless role in this mockery of diplomacy.

He would listen to her ludicrous schemes if it would grant him freedom from her grasp. Then he would return to the sands of his desert and meticulously plot both her _and_ Aladdin's demise, even if it took every last glassy grain of his lingering existence. As a life long overachiever, he decided to make the best of his current circumstances and get a head start on his revenge by observing her carefully during this period of forced civility. Destane's voice called down the corridor of his memory…

"_There is no time when a man does not display his weaknesses, boy. They are woven into the fabric of his being so tightly that even in the midst of the greatest victory, the eye may still follow along the strings until it knows his secrets better than the weaver's hand."_

Mozenrath lifted his head slightly so that he could study his enemy without drawing her attention. There was little to see from his vantage point apart from plain robes and an embellished headscarf. His eye was drawn to that particular item of clothing over and over again as it glinted in the scattered pools of light that managed to cut through to the canyon floor. He felt a wave nausea come over him when he observed the pattern begin to ripple and swirl like a heat mirage. Mozenrath swayed on his feet as he pushed fingers into his eyes to erase the image. He could barely make out the soft scrape of the princess' footsteps over the blood rushing in his ears.

He was vaguely aware that she was speaking to him over the throbbing of his head.

"-enrath?"

The sorcerer removed his hand to see her looking back at him from her position at the crest of a small hill that no doubt marked the end of their journey. Neither her expression nor her tone was especially concerned or kind, but the look in her eyes was one that fueled his already overheated temper. He detested the pity in their depths more than her sickening self-righteousness. Mozenrath decided to make it difficult for her to ever look at him that way again.

"I confess to a having slight headache over all this nonsense." He kept his voice intentionally bland, "Though, I do look forward to hearing your father's childish propositions so that I may return to my Citadel and draft a refusal letter." He gently tapped his chin in mock contemplation, "How to begin… 'To The Greatest of All the Bumbling Incompetents.' No, no. Too complimentary. Perhaps I'll try ' Dearest King of Cretins,' or 'To the Illustrious Idiot of Agrabah." That has a very nice ring to it don't you think Princess? Why, he may like the title so much he could add it to his stationary. Then, at least the next victim of his unsolicited political advances will be adequately informed of what they're getting themselves into."

If Mozenrath believed that he had seen the limits of her temper, he would have, theoretically, been proven wrong in the next instant when he found himself face to finger with her shaking hand. She stood on the balls of her feet, trying to match his superior height, as she shouted into his smirking face.

"Do **not** insult my father in front of me. The _only_ reason that we are even standing here is because he felt that it was wrong for us to keep you from your _responsibilities_!"

He snorted at her tone. As if she'd ever come down from the clouds long enough to take responsibility for anything in her whole pampered life!

"You and that disgusting creature would still be stuck in that ill conceived trap of yours if it hadn't been for him!"

The Sorcerer found himself unable to let such an insult against his intelligence slide.

"My 'ill conceived trap' was clever enough to catch the Jinn completely off guard! Tell me Princess, when was the last time you surprised a creature that old and powerful?"

Something about what he'd said hit the mark, because she suddenly shrank back from him and refused to meet his thunderous gaze.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or have you finally come to realize just how small a challenge you present to my overall goals?"

The Princess looked him in the eye without fear.

"You don't know me Mozenrath. I warned you once before not to underestimate what I'm capable of."

"A threat that has so far proven to have little truth behind it. What good is the ability to lock your enemies in an inescapable prison, if you lack the power to keep them there?" His next statement carried just a hint of reminiscence.

"How does it feel to realize that you are nothing more than a collared pet to be curbed at your master's whim?"

Mozenrath recognized the look of powerless frustration that fell over her face for a moment as she considered his point past the sting of her injured pride. Her answer came across clipped and final.

"What I lack in power, I'll make up for in determination."

She turned and quickly put some distance between them, resuming her hike with greater tenacity.

He doubted very much that the Princess realized how much she had just told him about herself. A very amateurish mistake. First she'd admitted that his release hadn't been her idea after all, dispelling his theories of naivety and guilt, and setting him on guard for ulterior motives. Second, the Princess had revealed a critical flaw in her persona as the dutiful daughter and fiancé. He recalled his taunts to Aladdin on the day of his imprisonment.

"…_You who refused to be a Sultan, so you could play the Hero?"_

"_Beats some of your hobbies."_

Mozenrath often found himself perplexed by Aladdin's lack of ambition. What if his reluctance had more to do with the Princess' own desire to rule? But of course, personal preference would mean nothing against hundreds of years of tradition…

The sorcerer displayed a small grin. Mozenrath knew the means used to exploit such desires. In fact, he might even go so far as to consider himself an expert on the matter.

A slight stirring caught his attention. The sorcerer's smile widened.

"Ma… master?" Xerxes garbled voice was barely more than a whisper at his wrist but the confirmation that his magic was not lost made him nearly laugh with relief.

Mozenrath saw this as just the encouragement he needed to move forward with the day's proceedings. Feeling far better than he had ten minutes before, the wizard followed the princess' trail over the crest of the hill and made his way into her camp.

* * *

Jasmine flung herself down the steep incline towards the camp so rapidly that she nearly twisted her ankle several times before she reached the bottom. Fazal and the other guards had made quick work of assembling the simple tents they'd packed that morning and the Princess didn't waste any time putting them to good use.

She quickly marched over to the nearest one and pulled back the flap while flinging herself inside at breakneck speed. The Princess buried her hot face in her hands as she let out a sob of frustration.

Jasmine didn't know what was _wrong_ with her. First she'd gone and pitied him when she promised herself she wouldn't. Then she'd opened her big mouth and told him that she was only letting him go because her father had commanded it!

'_Next time, why don't you just tell him that you're useless and save him the trouble of pointing it out!'_

Jasmine scrubbed at her face some more, trying to wash away the memory of his words. She desperately wanted to escape her own shame. She removed her hands to take in the tent's furnishings and found herself face-to-face with Hasim.

If the Vizier was in any way shocked by her behavior, he didn't show it. She took a step back towards the entrance, as if to leave, but Hasim simply gestured for her to take a seat on one of the sparse pillows he had provided for that purpose. Jasmine took in the tightly rolled scrolls in the basket by his bedroll and decided that this was probably the place he had intended for their negotiations to occur. He made a great show of fanning out his robes around him as he sat on another pillow that lay closer to the basket.

"May I ask what is troubling you Princess?"

His voice was light and disinterested, and she suddenly felt very childish for having let him see her in such a state. She stared at her hands in embarrassment. When the minutes stretched out and she didn't answer he began pulling out the scrolls and examining each with a mild expression.

"If I had to guess at what has upset your highness, I would say that it has something to do with the behavior of Lord Mozenrath."

That got her talking.

"Actually it has nothing to do with him. He's exactly what I expected."

_Liar, he is nothing like you expected._

The Vizier raised one fluffy eyebrow at this, but motioned for her to continue.

"I'm just frustrated by my inability to handle this situation. He baits me, as I knew he would, and I overreact! I just told him that I would have left him here to die if not for father's order. How am I supposed to convince him to take me seriously when he thinks I'm nothing more than my father's weak-willed lackey?"

Both of Hasim's eyebrows were high on his forehead by the end of this statement. Jasmine turned her face away again.

"I've failed Agrabah."

"I hardly believe that is true your highness."

When she looked back, his brow was once again relaxed and the Vizier had set his paperwork aside.

"You are allowing your personal feelings to cloud the issue at hand. You must stop."

Jasmine recalled all of the thinly veiled insults he had thrown her way over the years and feared another barrage coming on. The small man shrugged and sighed heavily before he began.

"His Lordship simply seeks to regain his footing. You forget that we are here because _you _imprisoned him and he could not escape on his own."

She was so shocked by this small, unexpected acknowledgement that she gripped the pillow beneath her for balance.

"I know where your true frustrations lay Princess. It is good you recognize the opportunity you have been given."

Jasmine was suddenly reminded of her own thoughts regarding the counsel's decision to exclude Aladdin's from the negotiations with Mozenrath. _There is a comment being made regardless of the given reason_. Her eyes widened.

"The choice is yours your Highness, but the first step towards autonomy lies in an alliance with the Lord of Black Sand. Prove to the nobles that you can bring them wealth and prosperity even in the face of adversity and they will love you for it. Show them that you are a strong enough woman to put aside personal preference and do what is best for the country as a whole."

She swallowed heavily, possibilities swirling behind her eyes.

Autonomy.

Independence.

_Power._

"But… why?"

Hasim sighed again and spoke in the most human tone she had ever heard from the politician's lips.

"Because our monarchy cannot survive another weak-willed Sultan. By changing the law, your father has given you the ultimate authority to decide the Kingdom's future. Despite heavy objections from certain… conservative factions, the counsel has decided that it would be better to place our trust in one who has repeatedly shown great potential, as opposed to an untested and uneducated boy.

Jasmine suddenly felt very defensive, in spite of the fact that she was speaking out against her own interests.

"Aladdin is not untested, he has protected Agrebah from countless threats!" Her voice grew heavy. "Including from a man who once held your office."

There was an unspoken name in the silence.

_Jafar_.

The Vizier appeared unfazed by her subtle suggestion of treachery.

"Aladdin has proven himself an able defender, but you above all others should realize that this does not make him a capable leader."

Jasmine was abruptly reminded of a certain fruit-juggling incident that had resulted in the Shah in question deciding that he would not be returning to Agrebah for another formal banquet.

Ever.

She was ashamed that she couldn't contradict him.

"I will not lie and say that this path will be easy for you Princess, even with the Counsel's support. To change that which has always been is to walk a razors edge between success and disaster. But if you truly desire more than what your birth has afforded you, you must stand up and fight for it."

He stared into her eyes with such conviction that Jasmine shrunk back a bit from his gaze. He lifted the nearest scroll and seemingly picked up where he left off.

"Please have his Lordship informed that we will meet to discuss terms at sundown. That should give both of you ample time to prepare."

Jasmine stood shakily and walked to the exit once again. The amused note in Hasim's voice detained her as he spoke to her retreating form.

"Oh, and I wouldn't worry too much about shouting at him. His Lordship seems to take a great deal of pleasure in arguing with you. One does not take the trouble to engage an unworthy opponent."

She fled to the far side of the camp to attempt to process all he'd told her.

* * *

Mozenrath sat in front of a conjured mirror in the tent that had been erected for his use. He frowned at his appearance. Apparently his body had not healed during his imprisonment and there was a vivid purple bruise spreading across his jaw line. Combined with the dark crescents under his eyes and the cracked lips he could understand why the princess had been moved to pity. The mamluks he'd summoned to guard him while he freshened up looked less pathetic.

Xerxes was curled up in his discarded headdress, humming some ugly nonsense tune to himself as he picked through his scales and cleaned them. The sorcerer was unable to summon any sort of surprise at the animal's blasé demeanor, though he did wonder exactly how the eel had entertained itself during their extended stay in the crystal. The discordant sound of Xerxes garbled voice filled the tent and the sorcerer decided that he could form a pretty good guess. Apparently his assertion that his companion would make a complete recovery had been correct. But then, Mozenrath was usually correct about things.

He ran two fingers of his gauntleted hand across the bruise, wincing in pain as the cold magic crept through the tissue and repaired it. He then moved to his lips and undid the damage there. He had no intention of meeting with the Princess and her Advisor with the fresh markings of his defeat still livid upon his face. The sorcerer suppressed a shudder when he was done and wiped his hand across his sweaty brow again.

'_Pushing yourself too far for the sake of vanity.'_

But his appearance was very important if he was going to retain any of his pride. Mozenrath loosened the leather strip he'd used to tie back his hair over a month ago and retied it carefully so that none of the errant curls would come loose. He really needed to cut it again. Long hair could be a liability when one had a tendency to work with volatile substances,

Such as potions…

Or arcane booby traps…

'_Or princesses.'_ He chuckled out loud at the thought of the girl attempting to get a hold of his hair to prove a point tonight. That would end very poorly for her and Agrebah.

Xerxes lifted his head from the delicate area near his rear flipper and smiled stupidly.

"Master happy?" The tiny creature was squirming with the desire to know if he'd guessed right.

"No Xerxes, I'm amused. I find the Princess and her methods of diplomacy very amusing."

The eel closed its eyes and nodded slowly, as if this was an important statement of purpose. Most likely, it had no idea what he was talking about and was pretending for the sake of his master.

Mozenrath could not have cared less either way.

He reached over to dump the fishy body out of his turban and adjusted it on his head. Xerxes floated up from a crumpled heap on the floor to hover over his master's right shoulder as the wizard stood and brushed off his dirty and disheveled clothing with distaste. Mozenrath decided there was nothing for it. He couldn't possibly waste any more magic on something so frivolous until he'd had something to eat. And drink. Definitely a few drinks.

With a flick of his magical hand, the mirror was dispelled and he exited the tent. His eyes met with the vivid colors of the Arabian sunset just as he emerged from the darkness. The Princess of Agrebah stood, silhouetted by the setting sun and flanked by her guards, looking for all the world like the Queen of the Desert as she waited for him to emerge.

Mozenrath signaled for the mamluks to remain behind as he moved forward to join the party that was forming in front of the Vizier's tent.

.

.

.

Jasmine found herself quickly reminded of just who she was dealing with as Mozenrath emerged from his temporary quarters. Night made its approach behind him, shrouding the twisted rocky peaks in shadows and deepening those in his face. The sorcerer's pet monstrosity hovered anxiously around his head, smiling cruelly with its needle-like teeth and mumbling softly to itself. But the most poignant reminder of the sorcerer's blackened soul was the undead soldiers that flanked him and stared blankly forward with rheumy eyes out of rotting faces.

Jasmine shivered and asked herself again how far she was willing to go, if she was truly able to commit to a course of action that would link her kingdom to this darkness all for the sake of her own goals.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to focus on the newfound sense of purpose that had been following her since her conversation with Hasim. There was no guarantee that he would agree to anything, all she had to do was show that she was committed to Agrebah's well being. She exhaled heavily and allowed the rushing oxygen to carry away the nervous energy from her stomach. When she opened her eyes again the subject of her thoughts was standing an arm's length away.

Mozenrath's own face betrayed nothing except the barest trace of condescending amusement. He held out an arm to escort her.

"Shall we "move forward together" then?" He smirked at his own joke, Jasmine ignored him.

She refused the false comfort of his formality, but they moved into the warm glow of Hasim's tent side by side just the same.


	6. Chapter 5: Too True

**Disclaimer: **Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

**Chapter 5**

**Too True**

"Lets get down to business then."

Jasmine was unsurprised to find that in the short time since she had last been here, Hasim had managed impose his opulence on the meager accommodations. Though it was unclear exactly _where_ he had managed to store all of the tapestries, mats and incense that assaulted her senses with their sheer vibrancy, the overall effect was something the princess could appreciate. Lanterns were strung from the overhead supports and bathed everything in a warm glow that was ruined for Jasmine by the thick tension that cast its sickly hue over the proceedings. Mozenrath's discomfort appeared to be of a more physical nature, as he was clearly too tall to stand up straight under the tent's low hanging ceiling, but was determined to remain upright until everyone else had taken their seats. Other than that, her enemy did not appear overly concerned with the situation he currently found himself in once he was seated.

Jasmine decided he was far more intimidating calm than when he was raging.

The Princess found herself watching him with anxiety. She was wary of the gauntlet's presence during these supposed 'peace' talks, but felt it would be inappropriate to ask him to remove it after he'd needed to defend himself against her guards. Rasoul had returned less than an hour before, rubbing his head viciously and she had given him a few large pieces of her mind to chew on in regards to his forceful actions. Jasmine contemplated Mozenrath's moment of weakness in her head. She knew his power rested in the glove, but for some reason it hadn't responded to him earlier that day. The thought occurred to her that it might repeat it's disobedience if he tried to use it again. Jasmine watched as the sorcerer tugged the object in question into a better fit around his thin wrist and decided that she didn't want to find out.

The eel circled ominously overhead before settling itself across Mozenrath's shoulders and Hasim seemed to take this as the cue to begin.

He took his seat at the top most point of the triangle that they formed. An elderly hand motioned to the map that was spread out between them across the floor mat and gestured to the border between the sorcerer's kingdom and her father's. Jasmine was extremely familiar with the size and shape of the state of Agrebah, but it was the sheer magnitude of Mozenrath's domain in comparison that surprised her. While all of Agrebah easily fit within the bottom corner of the map, the Land of Black Sand dominated nearly three quarters of her borders before trailing off the edges of the page into the abyss. Mozenrath was more concerned with two thin lines that outlined present and proposed trade routes then the disparaging sizes between the two territories. The old path lay just to the southeast of his kingdom and ran along the outer edge of the mountains that formed a natural border between the Black Sand and Agrebah. Jasmine knew from memory that the old route was dangerous and took more than 14 months for most traders to traverse. The princess thought of the recent disappearances and decided that the current situation was unacceptable.

She felt the confidence of her desicion bleed into her sense of unease and dispel it. Jasmine told herself that there was no objection large enough to merit the continued deaths and god knows what else that was befalling her people. Trade with the Northern Barbarians was necessary for her kingdom's survival. A safe route to complete those transactions on was necessary for her people's wellbeing. She reached out a hand to trace along the lines of her proposal.

"The mountains have proven to be too difficult for our people to cross successfully. If you would be willing to give Agrebah and her allies your permission to cross your land we could ensure the safety of our traders and cement stronger relations with the Northerners." She looked up to take in his reaction and studiously ignored the eel that was watching her from beneath his chin. Mozenrath relaxed into a look of easy dismissal that said he would not even consider it. She felt the floor begin to erode beneath her as he rubbed his familiar' head and refused to look her way.

"Why would I be willing to grant such permission when I can see no benefit to myself or my kingdom?"

Jasmine made to continue, but the he was very interested in putting her in her place now that he had the opportunity. She saw the sharp edge of anger in his face as he interrupted her half articulated thought.

"In fact, all I can see are the potential dangers. If traveling across my land is the only safe way for the Seven Deserts to commune with the _overwhelming_ charms of the Barbarians, what's to stop them from sending assassins to my Citadel once I've lifted my protective wards? Your father may be popular enough amongst his peers to be relied upon to set this up, but don't underestimate the level of treachery humans are capable of in the name of greed."

Jasmine decided to play off his unexpected faith in her father's honesty.

"What if you just allowed Agrebanian traders, then? If your constant paranoia still allows you to trust that my father has no desire to betray your confidence, you could use our kingdom as an intermediary between you and the other rulers."

"Again Princess, what do I stand to profit? Would you peg me as a man who does things out of the goodness of his heart?"

'_No. That assumes you have one.' The Princess smirked in spite of her cynical internal monologue. Hasim was right about his willingness to engage her. Now they were negotiating._

The Vizier produced one of the official scrolls from his basket with more flourish than his bony arms should have allowed and rolled it out over the map.

"His Majesties terms allow a large percentage of the profits for your use, my Lord."

The sorcerer reacted somewhat positively to this idea by moving forward to examine the papers. Jasmine recalled the former splendor of Mozenrath's now shabby apparel and decided that he would probably spend his entire allotment on oversized shoulder spikes and pointy shoes. She made a mental scoff at his commentary that she was childish when he walked around looking like he did. Hasim took his interest as encouragement and continued.

"This is, of course, in addition to a formal acknowledgement of your title and…"

She cringed at the Vizier's choice of words.

"_A formal what?"_

His outrage manifested as shockwaves, sending the eel flying towards the rafters, where it clung to the beams and shivered. Jasmine was disgusted with it all over again. Mozenrath's restrained temper returned with full force as he moved the gauntlet over the map as if to incinerate it as gesture of rejection. Hasim panicked for the first time that day at the impending destruction of his beloved paperwork. He leaned forward on his knobby knees and reached out his arms in a placating gesture, even as the indigo power of the gauntlet began to pulse around Mozenrath's outstretched arm.

"My lord, please, it is necessary in order to…"

With a flick of his wrist, Mozenrath imprisoned the old man in silence before raising his fist and shaking it with dramatic zeal.

"I single handedly overthrew my Master and became the most powerful sorcerer alive! I tamed the magic of the Black Sand and bent it to my will!"

He turned the tide of his anger on Jasmine.

"Why would I need the recognition of some fat foreigner to confirm that which should be obvious? I am Mozenrath, Lord of the Land of Black Sand, and I will destroy the Seven Deserts, leaving behind nothing but rubble! "

Jasmine's well-constructed thoughts jostled together as they were forced aside by her fear of this man whose eyes practically glowed with mania. He was evil. Mozenrath wanted nothing more that to tear everything she loved into little pieces and set the world to burn. Why was she handing him just the opportunity to do so? Hysteria was forming in growing clusters throughout her as she considered the dangerous path she had just placed her kingdom on by attempting to reason with this lunatic.

Seeking to protect her face she reached up and brushed the soft edge of her magical headgear instead. In the next instant, the warm tingle of Genie's magic spread down her fingers to pool in the palm of her hand before running down the length of her arm to rest over her heart. She closed her eyes as she felt a white wash of magic clear away the echoes of panic from her mind and leave behind the clear outlines of everything she needed to accomplish if she wanted to walk away from this encounter alive. Her eyes opened and she took in the scene before her with a new understanding. Jasmine decided that she really needed to thank the jinn again the next time she saw him.

'_Always a good idea to keep a clear head.'_

He certainly had a point.

The Princess placed her magically warmed hand over the icy grip of the gauntlet. She winced when she felt the sizzles and snapping pops of two magics reacting between their fingers, but held on despite the discomfort. The Sorcerer's fury turned to confusion as he experienced the sensation of a foreign power.

"Mozenrath, it was not meant as an insult."

She allowed her eyes to communicate her desire for his understanding.

"This is nothing more than a formality, telling our allies that Agrebah recognizes all that you have accomplished." She lowered he eyes to the gauntlet for her final admission. "My father is opening the door for you to gain influence and standing among the rulers of this region as a peer. It is a valuable offer to any young monarch."

.

.

.

Mozenrath felt the warmth of the jinn's magic the moment she touched him. The girl was practically soaked in enchantments. His continuing physical discomfort was only excuse he could offer for not having noticed before.

The thin wrist positioned over his glove held a bracelet that was wrapped in a locator charm.

Her robes had been spelled to resist wear and tear, and protect her from disease.

But the most powerful item by far he had already taken note of, though he had been unaware of it at the time.

The headscarf was packed full of tightly woven magic to ward off confusion and coercions. There were spells to fight anxiety, terror, anger, exhaustion and, he noted with some amusement, arousal. He restrained himself from gaping at the sight. The skill and time that had gone into such an object suggested a master sorcerer's hand. But he knew the feel of jinn's magic almost as well as his own. Surprising, considering that most of the creature's spells were throw together so haphazardly that they broke apart after only a few moments.

Mozenrath knew the temperamental nature of the wild magic that ruled such beings. It needed focus and direction or it would burn itself out with the need to create, or destroy. This was why jinni needed masters to focus their energies. Otherwise they would spin out of control and destroy themselves in the process. Since Aladdin's jinn was free, the fact that it still had the mental faculties and the power to create such an object was astounding from a purely academic point of view.

On a personal level, he hated her the girl all the more for keeping such a prize specimen from him.

He felt her logic rub abrasively against the underbelly of his anger. Mozenrath could feel the truth in her words. By killing Destane, he had proven himself to be little better than Aladdin in the eyes of the nobility. To them he might be an able sorcerer, a capable opponent, or perhaps just a treacherous protégé, but none of this marked him as their equal. His birth and origins were unknown to the world at large and that was all that those people truly cared about. Mozenrath ground his teeth at the thought of being compared to that opportunistic peasant.

As if they were anything alike.

After his revelations that afternoon, he was able to recognize what the Princess was saying behind the veil of her carefully chosen words. Her father was handing him an opportunity that she had never been given. The Sultan would tie himself forever to Mozenrath's name by formally recognizing him as King. The Sorcerer's pride hurt that he couldn't take this kind of power for himself and he felt an old wound sting at the reminder of political mechanisms.

Some things never changed.

Mozenrath told himself of the reality of his situation. His goals ended with the destruction of the Seven Deserts. They would all feel the icy grip of death and bask in their own inability to save themselves. He would grind the fools' crowns under his heel and laugh in their vacant faces, before he went to his reward. If things were different, if fate hadn't demanded such a high price in return for his power, the sorcerer might have considered political manipulation as a means to an end. But speculation was pointless. All he had hoped to gain from this meeting was the ability to return to his desert without any detours or delays in her highness' royal dungeons. He had lost enough time to her already.

He raised his free hand to remove hers from the gauntlet, as she was clearly too fascinated by the physical manifestation of his much-discussed powers to notice that he was no longer in the mood to destroy her lovely maps. The soft touch of her fingers combined with the unguarded influence of the jinn's magic against his bare skin had an unexpected effect on Mozenrath. Though he could not be entirely sure what the source of it was, he found himself feeling overly… warm. In his current state of health it came across as the wet humidity of an unbroken fever and made him shiver with the desire to embrace the icy pain of the gauntlet once more.

The Princess jerked back from the contact of his hand as soon as she felt it, for which he was grateful. Though he now possessed so much ammunition against her that he was beginning to think that using his flirtatious comments to fuel her temper was becoming too easy. The girl obviously still possessed naivety in at least one area of life experience. Mozenrath grew tired of constantly circumventing her questions and distracting her with his half-hearted come-ons. He decided to turn the tables on her. The sooner she decided he wasn't worth her time, the sooner he could return home. He allowed the spell on the Vizier to dissipate before turning to him and doing his best royal brat impression. He hoped the Princess would recognize herself in his performance.

"What else?"

The girl jumped into the conversation before the older man could begin. The scarf's spell must have been wearing quickly of if she was able to reach that level of snappiness so soon.

"What do you mean, 'what else'? My father is making a very generous offer for such a small favor."

She was going to have to work on that entitled little attitude of hers.

"It is hardly a trifling matter princess. The magic of my land is not something easily controlled. And a merry band of travelers walking right into its waiting arms is not a temptation it will be able to ignore for long. I'm sure you've heard the legends…"

And he knew from her coloring that she had. Her face paled visibly in the lamplight.

"What you are really asking for is my protection, which I may be willing to provide in exchange for the same courtesy."

She sent a meaningful glance towards the gauntlet as she considered his possible implications. He got the impression that she felt he did not require any more protection, which was oddly flattering, except that she didn't know the first thing about how his magic worked. The girl gave up her conjectures and returned her attention to his face with a question on her lips.

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning that our Alliance will be more that a paper thin formality. Since the Sultan is feeling 'generous' enough to kick-start my international political career and make all of his friends aware of my presence, I'm sure he wouldn't mind inviting me to a few of his monthly get-togethers so that I can make a good impression on the neighborhood."

A crease, which he was beginning to suspect was created especially for her interactions with him, formed between her brows as she tried to connect what he was saying.

"I still don't see how that constitutes as protection, Mozenrath."

He made a small 'tsking' noise at the tone of her voice. "Wouldn't want you royals to start spreading rumors about me."

Her face retained its mulish expression and he opened the floor to her hobbling mentor by sliding his eyes in the man's direction. There was a knowing gleam in the man's hawkish face. He made a gesture that indicated for the Vizier to illuminate his point.

"What I believe Lord Mozenrath is saying, is that he wishes to be included in the meetings of the Seven to avoid the possibility of those meetings becoming a forum used to overthrow him."

The girl pursed her lips in a way that made him wonder exactly what she was holding in behind her teeth. He knew that he had won. There was no way that she would agree to such a preposterous…

"Before I agree, tell me, why aren't you taking this offer seriously?"

_What?_

"That's an awful straight forward question from an aspiring politician."

There was a calculating sharpness to her frail features as she retorted.

"Actually, it's not. Just a few minutes ago, you said you had plans to destroy the Counsel of the Seven Deserts. If this proposition of yours is meant to _look _like a ploy to get them into the same room so you can do away with them," she accompanied this statement with a sweeping gesture that might have been vaguely reminiscent of a spell, " then you've given me every possible reason to turn you down. I'm only trying to understand why you want me to give up on this alliance when I've already put so much effort into it."

He was speechless in the wake of having been found out. And was that… pride on the old man's face?

"You give me a lot of credit, princess. Perhaps I'm just that transparent."

"No, you're not. You're intelligent and shrewd enough to try and use my protective instincts against me, but your skills of manipulation are lacking. I'm not buying it."

She seemed awful pleased with herself, for someone who'd needed help following his trail of logic less than a minute ago. He gripped his knees tightly.

"And you seem to think that you can use social status as a means of collaring me into doing whatever you wish. What was the plan, little princess? Give poor Mozenrath some money and the chance to rub elbows with the popular kids. Then maybe he'll change his mind about converting all of you to dust and ash? Think again!"

"Who said I was trying to reform you in any way? I'm sacrificing some dearly held principles for what is best for my people! For what is best for you in the end, if you really want to succeed in conquering the world!" Even she seemed shocked by that statement in the silence that followed it. He asked his next question fully aware of just how interested he was in her response.

"Why would you help me accomplish that goal? Do you imagine that your compliance will win you a place on the arm of the most powerful sorcerer in the world?" It would seem that he wasn't getting tired of taunting her after all. She turned away, but his victory was ruined by her laughter, which contained all the same warmth as the sound of broken glass being swept together.

"As if I'd even be tempted! I've turned down that offer once before." The look of pained recollection said she was telling the truth. "If I wanted a political alliance, I could have had it. Last year every eligible man with a drop of blue blood in a thousand miles was willing to drop to his knees and beg for my hand." Mozenrath honestly considered telling her just how wrong she was on that point, but decided it would prompt too many intrusive questions.

"You still haven't answered me. What is _your_ motivation behind this partnership, princess?"

She mouthed the word 'partnership' before allowing her mouth to hang open. He was beside himself with amusement at her cluelessness. Had she deluded herself into thinking this was somehow between him and her father? She was the one sitting in the middle of the desert, with nothing but a handful of guards and an old man to protect her from the most dangerous sorcerer in the world. She must possess a vivid imagination to not have realized what she was truly asking for. The desperation was back in her face and she looked to her adviser for help, but he remained stoic. The sorcerer had to give the man credit for having been able to turn her opinion of him around so quickly, considering that earlier in the day she'd rolled her eyes every time the old man spoke. Mozenrath wondered what the Vizier promised her to make her go through with this as a means to an end. Beneath that he wondered what other lengths she was willing to go to for those ends.

She didn't voice her reasoning, but when her hungry eyes met his he felt both the confirmation of this theory and the answering call of his own need for power burning in his gut. He knew then that she would do anything to gain dominion over Agrebah and her destiny. Despite their conflicting intentions and wildly different backgrounds, they shared this deeply rooted similarity. Something in the Sorcerer shifted at the realization of her ruthlessness. She swallowed and adjusted her position on the cushion with practiced grace, but refused to answer him. The Vizier surprised him by offering an explanation of his own in place of whatever lie the Princess was preparing.

"My lord, though I hate to disappoint you, her Highness' personal aspirations are limited to Agrebah at present." Mozenrath bared his teeth at the man's cheek. "However, I believe there is much for both of you to gain by working together."

Mozenrath let out a bark of laughter at the absurdity of the entire idea.

"Like _what_? Eventually I will achieve my goals of global annihilation and then where will she be? The dead Sultana of the Wasteland formerly known as Agrebah! Until then, there is nothing I require from her or anyone else!"

"That is not entirely true. You said yourself that the Sultan has made your neighbors aware of your position." He could have punched the geezer for using his ploy for rejection against him. "How easy do you think it will be for you to dominate to known world if you are barely able to hold your own borders?"

"The magic of the land…"

"Is no match for the greed of powerful men. They will send their armies and neither you, nor your magic will be able to stop them. You need Agrebah's influence to prevent your own destruction. Whatever your long-term goals are, you both need this alliance for the time being."

.

.

.

Perhaps it was because neither of them had anything to say after that, or maybe it was the shared looks of teenage petulance that blossomed on their faces, but Hasim decided that his point was made and began unrolling page after page of contracts for them to sign. Their chorused groans were music to his ears.

Everything was proceeding beautifully.

* * *

A/N- I am so unbelievably sorry that this chapter took so long. I'm under contract with a second job right now and between that and me smashing my hand in a door at work, I haven't been able to type this up. Luckily, things should be less crazy this week and my poor thumb is on the mend, so I hope to have the next chapter up _before _next weekend.

Notes on this chapter... Surprisingly enough, most of this dialogue between Moze and Jas wrote itself. They really, really like arguing with each other. I've tried to include some immaturity in both of them as, in my mind at least, Mozenrath is around 20 and Jasmine is 17. That was the information that Wikipedia gave, at least. I had to laugh at the fact that even though they are supposed to be talking about what's best for both of them politically, they can't stop bringing up their personal relationship. Good thing Hasim is there with his own shady motivations to keep them in line!

Coming soon... The Scepter changes hands and everybody goes home. What will everyone's reaction to Jasmine's political savvy be? Did the Black Sand throw a house party while Moze was gone? Will Aladdin ever start wearing a shirt? Answers to these important questions and more next time!

If you have time, I'd love to hear from you guys! :-)


	7. Chapter 6: Topsy Turvy

**Disclaimer: **Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

**Chapter 6**

**Topsy Turvy**

They didn't leave the tent until long after the moon had passed its zenith. Jasmine shivered in the open expanse of desert cold after the close warmth of Hasim's tent and wrapped her arms around herself. Mozenrath exited behind her, flexing and cracking the bones of his right hand in a manner that was far _too loud_ for the serene quiet that surrounded them. Her annoyance was replaced by the apathy of fatigue, and she barely had the energy to release an encumbered sigh at his behavior after an entire evening of disapproving glares. Her guards moved groggily from their posts to resume their duties, but she only shook her heavy head and motioned for them to retire. She was relatively sure that Mozenrath had no intention of hurting her for the moment. He needed her, after all.

They needed each other.

She tilted her head up to take in his profile in the moonlight, pale and cold and calculating as it was, and tried to imagine what thoughts were clawing at the back of that stony façade. The eel was hanging around his neck again, obviously asleep and snoring in humorous contrast to the serious look of contemplation that stretched across the sorcerer's features as he stared off into the gradually darkening hills of his homeland. Jasmine felt the unexpected serration of guilt across the freshly mended skin of their truce when she recognized what completing her final objective for the evening would mean.

She made a noise in the back of her throat and he turned to her, exhaustion creeping over the landscape of his face, even as he attempted a menacing grimace. She tried to think of something to say, but drew a blank when she realized that she didn't _want_ to lie to him. After the depth of truth that had passed between them tonight, she felt a nearly physical reaction at the thought of manipulating him with pretense. Even amongst all of the insults and misconceptions, Jasmine had spoken her true mind to the sorcerer. It was a strangely honest relationship to share with someone you despised.

The seconds ticked away as she attempted to understand the dynamics of this new partnership she'd agreed to. He was going to help her achieve her goals in exchange for the same courtesy. No one else, besides Hasim, knew how badly she wanted to become her father's heir. How did this new understanding affect his opinion of her? Both encounters showed he held her in contempt for being a pampered palace brat. Would any of that be affected by the acknowledgement of her ambition? Should she care? He'd given his kingdom's fealty and protection. No promises of friendship or warm civility, just cold hard necessity.

Jasmine took a deep breath, willing her tense muscles to release.

She didn't dare guess at what else he might have figured out about her beyond the obvious, but the freedom of having someone else _know _was a breath of fresh air after a lifetime under the crushing weight of an ocean. Jasmine finally relaxed with the knowledge that she wouldn't have to hide this piece herself from him. His opinion was meaningless. They both knew that this was an alliance of convenience and nothing more.

Mozenrath moved towards his tent, but she restrained him with a gentle touch at the threadbare elbow of his sleeve. He turned sharply to glare at her in the moonlight, but even in anger he didn't break the silence that enclosed the camp. The uncertainty in his eyes said he was as confused as she was about how to proceed.

A spike of adrenaline rushed through her as she threw caution to the wind. Jasmine prayed that her and Genie's plan wouldn't obliterate everything she'd accomplished in the past few hours.

"I… There's something I want to give to you."

He raised a speculative eyebrow, but said nothing. She gestured to her own tent at the far edge of the circle and the eyebrow made an astounding reach for his hairline before diving back down into a depraved expression that caused her to roll her eyes. Apparently some things hadn't changed at all.

"You don't say…" he commented, filling his voice with all sorts of promises that made her stomach turn. Jasmine was beginning to think that he did things like this for the sole purpose of upsetting her. Actual anger sparked in the haze of her exhaustion. For some unfathomable reason, the idea that his interest was feigned was more infuriating than his actual behavior.

* * *

The inside of the Princess' tent was a good deal nicer than his own, but he refrained from saying so. Not out of propriety, but from lack of opportunity since as soon as he'd stepped over her threshold she'd moved to one of the partitioned back corners to retrieve something. This left him to wonder at her decision to invite him here in the first place.

What was she playing at?

Though Mozenrath hated her on so many levels it was difficult to see straight, the part of him that was still very much a hormonal adolescent cast a hopeful glance towards the heavenly cushions and throws of her sleeping mat. He immediately dismissed the idea as implausible and mocked himself for sinking so low. Teasing the girl was one thing, but anything else would be nearly as debasing to him as it would be to her. He began exploring the rest of her quarters to try and decipher the real reason behind her impromptu invitation, though he was having a difficult time focusing with the small amount of energy he had left.

The old man certainly knew how to beat a topic to death.

His eye was abruptly drawn down from the luxurious fabrics of her bed to the enchanted rug on the floor. For the Princess of a Non-Magical realm, she certainly boasted a fair number of supernatural accessories. With a malicious smirk he moved to stand on the creature, digging his heels viciously into the pile. The Carpet remained still and he frowned heavily at the lack of response.

Well, if it wanted to continue this charade, Mozenrath was more than willing to accommodate its stubbornness.

He used a small pinch of power to summon one of the lamps that hung overhead. He allowed the contents of it to jostle threateningly over his flammable foe for a few moments, even going so far as to let the oil dribble down onto one threadbare corner of the mat before returning the lamp to it's assigned position in frustration. He contemplated waking Xerxes and ordering the creature relieve itself on the magical miscreant, but the girl's re-emergence put those plans on indefinite hold. She was carrying a long, thin object wrapped in black cloth that was taller than her. A moment of confused silence stretched between them. Not because of her cargo, he knew that would be explained.

No.

It was because of that same unsaid something that had stretched between them in the moonlight only a few minutes ago. Mozenrath doubted that anyone besides himself and the Vizier knew about her plans. In a way, it was almost as if he were tied to her by the knowledge. He found himself drawn to the ambition of the idea in spite of his hatred for everything she stood for. Her need to be better than her circumstances was very… familiar.

"This is for you." He blinked at the interruption in his chain of thought.

"I… know it was wrong for me to leave you here for so long, regardless of what you'd done." She extended her arms so that he could take it, all while studiously glaring at his boots. His suspicions rose at her sudden change of heart. Just a few hours ago she'd been happily boasting about her choice to leave him to his death. Had the shift between them been so great that she would now regret his demise? He gave her a lopsided look of disbelief.

"Please accept this gift as my apology." There was more than a hint of frustration in her voice this time, combined with a slight pursing of lips and the frenzied tapping of her foot at his reluctance. His suspicions were replaced with outrage. She honestly thought his forgiveness could be bought?

_Wrong again Princess._

Mozenrath examined the cloth, but found nothing to indicate what was inside. He drew out his inspection as long as possible as her agitation grew by leaps and bounds. He couldn't detect any glamours, but it was difficult for his eyes to discern where the Princess' enchantments ended and the objects might have begun. Mozenrath's curiosity was beginning to outweigh his unease and in an action he would later come to regret, he acted impulsively.

He took it from her to test its weight.

She relaxed so forcefully after he lifted the item from her grasp that he felt the need to say something; anything to keep her from believing that all was forgiven or forgotten.

"Think nothing of it Princess." He told her with a cold smile. "I wouldn't have done anything differently if our situations were reversed."

A ghost of anger passed across her face before she replied with the same boring heroic tone he'd heard a thousand times over from her companion.

"I'm not like you. What I did was morally reprehensible and went against everything I strive for as an individual and a leader."

Of _course_ she would turn her apologetic gesture around to place herself on the moral high ground. He wouldn't expect anything less from Aladdin's Perfect Princess. Mozenrath seethed inwardly, but found himself without the necessary energy to argue over the points of her black and white morality.

"Please, take it and consider this a promise that I will endeavor to treat you with more respect in the future."

He weighed the item in his hands with growing interest. What could she have in her possession that he would want? His curiosity fully overwhelmed his honed sense of self-preservation and he reached through the fabric to touch the warm metal of a magical object before discarding the cloth entirely in childish impatience. It was a scepter and he stuttered mentally when he recognized the carvings. After a moment Mozenrath was able to place it's familiarity. Her earlier comment made sense now. Though how that doddering old fool ever considered himself the most powerful _anything_ was beyond even Mozenrath's ability to comprehend.

"Ah, yes. Jafar." He was incredibly pleased when she drew her arms up in a defensive gesture across her chest. Apparently that worthless wizard had managed to do some actual damage to the Royal Family before his incompetence caught up with him.

"I always thought Destane wasted his time crafting such a powerful object for that two-denarii hypnotist and his wild schemes. But, then again, the man had money to burn and we've never had any scruples about ripping off idiots in my kingdom."

She narrowed her eyes at the multiple implications of his statement.

A small trill of excitement ran through him at the prospect of having acquired another high quality piece. His former master never allowed for imperfections and, unlike Jafar, Mozenrath possessed the skills and knowledge necessary to wield the staff's true power. He turned the object over in his hands, looked into the serpentine face and said the first thing that came into his mind with the dull voice of an unhappy child.

"It's been repaired recently."

The girl shrugged. If she was surprised that he was familiar with the scepter already she didn't show it. Mozenrath wondered if her choice was at all coincidental.

Experience told him no.

"Jafar underestimated Aladdin and I, and paid the price." He felt his neck tighten uncomfortably at the thought of her and that dirty mongrel ruining yet another opportunity for him to add to his collection. He ran the gauntlet over the replaced eyes and felt the slight tingle of lingering magic. He scowled heavily at her for tricking him.

"It hasn't retained any of its former capabilities. Why would I want a broken object of power?" She gave him a tight smile that said she was not the least bit sorry about the fact that his 'gift' was damaged. Her self-satisfied demeanor expressed what she wasn't saying and it rang out in the conversational lull._ "What kind of fool do you take me for?" _

God, how he hated her!

"I assumed you would like the chance to examine it for it's scholarly value. Surely, things like this are not commonplace, even for you."

He scoffed at her pathetic excuse. As if she knew anything about magic beyond its use as a mystical bandage for being a worthless monarch.

"Destane made this after I came to live with him in the Citadel. If I truly desire to know more about it's construction than what I witnessed firsthand, I have his journals at my disposal."

He turned away from her to distract from the fact that he still had no intention of giving it back, broken or not. She apparently noticed his behavior and chuckled at her own cleverness. He moved to make his exit, not wanting to see her look of smug self-assurance.

"Oh, Mozenrath." He was increasingly uncomfortable with her tone of voice. "Surely by your age you've realized that books are nowhere near as _enjoyable_ as the real thing."

.

.

.

He left the tent dizzy, with several theories swirling around in his head in the wake of her laughter.

He _must_ have been beyond exhaustion to accept such a gift in the first place.

She _must_ have kicked him senseless and he was bleeding in his brain if he was still underestimating her deviousness.

And _surely_, he was asleep in his bed and having a fantastic nightmare if the prudish Princess of Agrebah was the one throwing out innuendos and laughing about it behind his back.

* * *

Dawn found the wizard sitting before his former prison, gauntleted hand pressed palm-flat against the smooth surface, as he worked on summoning the magic still trapped within the enchanted stone. Xerxes was finally awake and hovering nervously behind him, checking to make sure they hadn't been followed from the camp.

As the rays of daylight began filtering through the glassy surface, Mozenrath could see that the once emerald green crystal was now the same electric blue as his magic. Despite having spent the majority of the night working on siphoning back his power, he had barely managed to work himself back up to half of his former strength, much less effect the overall composition of the crystal. It was unnerving to realize how close he'd been to expiring before his 'rescue' after all.

However, there was nothing like pain to remind him of his continued vivaciousness. The rocky ground was digging into his knees and some of the bolder pebbles had managed to work themselves through the numerous holes in his pants to begin scraping away at his skin. Between that and the searing sting of the gauntlet at work, the two hours of sleep he'd managed to accumulate weren't nearly enough to restore his health considering the circumstances he currently found himself in.

When the dosage of discomfort became too much for him to bear, Mozenrath would pull back and test the power of his spell work. Despite his slow progress, the gradually disappearing cliff face was a good sign. He listened to the satisfying echo of crumbling rock for a few minutes after the initial impact of his latest attempt and felt the larger muscles of his back relax.

Mozenrath was just beginning to debate the most effective methods of transporting the crystal back to the citadel when Xerxes screeched and flew straight into the air to attack a speck on the edge of his vision. He could just make out the glint of sunlight off of a crown against the morning sky. Alarm quickly bled into amusement. He stood and waved daintily at her, wiggling the fingers of his magical hand with relish as he tested their recovered dexterity.

"Good Morning Princess." He called dramatically.

Xerxes halted mid-swoop, pulling the sharp points of his teeth back from their offensive stance and sniffing the air. He hovered for a moment and exchanged a few unintelligible words with the shadowy figure before turning to lead the girl and her carpet down to eye level. Or at least to a height that wasn't so eye straining.

It was obvious from the look of her that the princess had little time to prepare before heading out in search of him. The nasty tangles throughout her unbound hair suggested a night of tossing and turning.

"You're looking remarkably disheveled today. Rough night?"

She jumped down from a height well above his own and landed in a crouch in front of him. He was beginning to wonder how a pampered doll possessed that level of physical prowess, regardless of the kind of company she kept. Some feats were just unnatural for a girl of her upbringing.

"There was a bit of chaos this morning when no one could find you. Hasim wanted to make sure you were aware of the next council meeting before you head back to whatever miserable place you inhabit."

He smirked at her attempt to cover up her concern. The lines of panic were still plainly visible on her face. He had no idea she'd needed his help this badly.

"But why the theatrics? Were you afraid I'd left without saying goodbye?"

He threw his arms up in a mock swoon before bringing them down forcefully on his hips. She remained silent throughout his performance.

"Or was it a farewell kiss you were missing?" Xerxes chose to punctuate this offer with one of his own as he puckered his fishy lips at her.

"Kissy… kissy!"

The Princess twisted her face into the most unbecoming look possible, while the rug managed to look as outraged as home décor could. He laughed aloud at their discomfort, though Mozenrath had to admit that the idea of locking lips with an eel was not particularly appealing to him either.

Mozenrath patted the creature on it's scaly head before turning back to look at the girl. She was watching him with the strangest look on her face. When the Princess stepped towards him, Mozenrath took a distracted step back into the crystals side. Did she honestly think he'd been serious! The way she leaned in towards him made the sorcerer extremely unsure.

.

.

.

"Is that thing… glowing?"

Jasmine was surprised to see the crystal growing brighter with every step she took towards it. Mozenrath was backed up all the way, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind, but she was too memserized to care. The flashing color was unlike anything she'd ever seen. But then…

What on earth was he doing out here by himself? She assumed Mozenrath wouldn't want to be within a hundred miles of this thing, much less curled up against the side as it pulsed with an ominous blue light. The thought occurred to her that the glowing might not be a good sign and she halted her advance before taking a few staggering steps backward.

The wizard snapped out of his moment of confusion and realized the true source of her interest a handful of seconds later. They both spent the next few minutes pondering this development while the rug and eel made valiant efforts to get their attention. Finally, Mozenrath seemed to have an idea and jumped forward to seize Jasmine by the wrist to pull her closer to the stone.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Testing a theory."

His voice was perfectly calm when he replied, though it caught Jasmine off guard to hear him so… engaged. The lack of malice was also an interesting development. He pushed the arm wearing Genie's bangle forward and she felt her heart quiver with fear when the color flashed to new heights. She struggled against him to move back from the stone, but he was stronger and held her fast.

Mozenrath waved her arm back and forth several times before releasing her and shoving her behind him. He then assumed the position she'd been forcefully ejected from and furrowed his brow in contemplation when his gauntlet failed to achieve the same effect. He eyed Carpet over his shoulder and snapped out at her.

"Order your carpet to fly over to me."

"You don't command me!" Jasmine hissed back at him, rubbing her arm and extremely relieved to be away from both monumental crystals and raving lunatics.

He turned and fixed her with a disapproving eye.

"Partners, remember? You promised me aid." His face said he was calling in his favor. He flapped his hand at her impatiently.

She turned to the reluctant rug and gestured for him to make his way over. She hated seeing the defeated swing of it's tassels as it glided past her, but was intrigued once again when the crystal lit up even brighter at it's approach. The only magician present suddenly began talking to himself in ways that hardly made sense to her uneducated ears while drawing out diagrams in the sand with the toe of one battered boot.

"…Transitive properties…"

"… Polar bias."

"Mathematically possible…"

He looked up at her with an evil smirk that _almost _didn't frighten her. Almost.

"Thank you for your assistance Princess. It's been an enlightening morning." He pivoted on his heel and signaled to the eel in a way that gave her the impression he was going to pull off another one of his thin air escapes.

"Mozenrath!" She was shocked by how much of Hasim's early morning desperation flooded into her voice. The pleasantly thoughtful smile on his face when he turned back distracted her momentarily. What did she need to tell him...

He suddenly realized what he was doing and promptly adjusted his features to something far more familiar.

"Next month. On the 13th. In Rashaputt." Came out a jumbled heap. He tapped his chin and repeated it silently to himself.

"It's a date then. _Your Highness_." He gave her a mocking bow and made to leave yet again. Jasmine was not about to allow him to have the last word. She was getting really tired of him smearing her title with his snide tones.

"Jasmine."

"Excuse me?" His posture was caught halfway through some magical gesture as he craned his neck back for the second time in the past minute.

"My name. It's Jasmine. Use it." Mozenrath chuckled and shook his head while he completed the spell.

"Whatever you say… Jasmine."

And he was gone.

The Princess stood for a few minutes, watching the place he'd disappeared from, just in case it was a trick. She then mounted the rug and sent them both soaring into the atmosphere at breakneck speed. No matter how harsh the wind bit at her face or howled in her ears during the long ride back to Agrebah, the puzzle that was Mozenrath refused to leave her thoughts.

* * *

A/N- Ha! You thought I died didn't you? I regret that this chapter took so long for me to post. Life has been getting in the way left, right and sideways lately. I'm working on editing the next chapter, but I'm probably going to remain busy until the end of December so I won't make any promises I might not be able to keep.

My favorite part of this is right at the end, when Moze is getting his nerd on. If anybody has theories about how he's going to put that big, glowing crystal to use, you're probably right! :-) smarty pants.

Side note... since I am relatively sure that we are all hard core villain lovers in this fandom, I must recommend the blue genius that is Megamind. This movie completed my life in so many ways... total win!

Thanks to all my reviewers and everyone that is still reading! Happy Holidays!


	8. Chapter 7: Fall in Fall out

**Disclaimer: **Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

**Chapter 7**

**Fall in. Fallout.**

Mozenrath focused on a sharp point in his memory, allowing the magic of the gauntlet to be drawn into the image, twisting and shaping it until he was deposited on the border of his kingdom. On the very spot he'd crossed twelve years earlier when he'd first arrived to be exact. On that day of terror and betrayal he'd seen the desert as death come to swallow him up and the Citadel as his personal hell. It was nearly impossible for him to backtrack through the various mindsets that had lead him to this moment of anticipation and restlessness to return, but he could recall that first impression with astounding clarity.

Clarity in any form was a rare commodity since he'd come to live under Destane.

As his body materialized he felt the hot, stinging agony of a sandstorm surround and consume him. He hardly needed more than a moment to cast a protective shield around himself and his familiar. Xerxes whined high above the surrounding gale, coiling his leathery length around Mozenrath's neck to speak into his ear over the howling fury.

"Angry. Sand angry."

The sorcerer could only hum his agreement with the assessment. All around their protective sphere the air filled with twisted, swirling clouds of dark gradient. One might have mistaken it for a normal storm, but for the shrieking magic that assaulting the wizard's senses from every side. The clouds rose in impenetrable walls before collapsing in on themselves to form masses of screaming faces shooting burning embers from their open mouths. On one side, he clearly recognized the shape of an ancient dragon tearing through the sky towards him on ragged wings, releasing a barrage of scarlet flames before crumbling back into dust against the wall of his spell. Below where they floated, dunes rose and fell like waves on the ocean. Crashing against one another, launching more particles into the over-burdened sky so they could float amongst their fellows on the tide of the primal tantrum that was ripping through the earth around him.

The wizard hardened himself against the exhaustion still dragging at his limbs and gathered his magic. Xerxes slithered down his left arm, trying to escape the icy haze that materialized around the gauntlet, frosting his clothing and causing the air inside the shield the crystallize into a pale fog. He summoned more power, dragging the magic up until even the air in his lungs had the metallic taste of ice. He felt Xerxes' uncontrolled shivers on his good arm, the tremors of his own pathetic body inching up from his ungrounded feet. Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathed in, and out. And released the shield.

The scraping agony lasted for all of the five seconds it took Mozenrath to fall to the ground and bury the gauntlet up to his elbow in the shifting sand.

The stillness that followed was nearly as disturbing as the tempest that preceded it. Xerxes released his death grip on Mozenrath's bicep, but did not relinquish the comfort of bodily contact. When the wizard opened his eyes, the surrounding dunes where stationary and silent. A gentle grey dust floated down from the air, barely disturbing the ground where it landed with no breeze to manipulate its passage.

He coughed, twice, and the sound echoed back at him from all corners of the haze.

Mozenrath gripped his skeletal fingers beneath the gauntlet, felt the surrounding earth shift rapidly to allow the movement of his hand, the aftershock of his spell still surging within. He flexed the leather, impressed with it's effectiveness, considering the his current weakened state. He slowly removed it from the ground, watching with a smile as the grains clung to the glove before releasing him with a tired caress.

A small breeze whispered, catching the sweaty curls on his brow and mumbling its confusion.

He'd gone.

He hadn't returned.

Mozenrath tried to communicate calm without relinquishing any of his personal feelings about his absence. The land's emotions were too primitive to understand the finer details of his imprisonment. He wasn't sure confident enough in his control over his temper to be sure that he wouldn't wind up whipping it into a fury that would destroy Agrabah and all of the problems therein. Which would, in turn, spread his resources too thin. No, Mozenrath decided to focus on calming the magic for now. The time for retribution was later, when he'd reestablished control over the main stretch of his desert.

The sky cleared enough to allow the weakest rays of morning sunlight to filter through the clouds. Xerxes slid off his arm, moving down to sniff at the ground uncertainly.

"Sand sleeping?" The eel turned its mismatched eyes to the sorcerer questioningly.

"For the moment." Mozenrath ran the knuckles of the gauntlet over the surface, watching as the ridges they formed twisted upwards before settling back down with an exhausted sigh. "We are too far out to know how much damage has been done."

Terror seized his chest, hitching his breath and making coherent thought something of a challenge. He couldn't loose the Citadel. He _wouldn't._

The gauntlet fisted in the sand, his good hand reaching blindly for the comfort of his small companion. Xerxes rushed forward to push against the hand fondly, an affectionate smile on his face.

Xerxes was confident in his master. Master would solve the problem. Master always did.

A few forced inhalations later, Mozenrath straightened from his crouch to observe his surroundings. What should have been the clearly defined border of his outlands, materialized as a solid desert of black sand. He wondered at the change.

With a wave of relief he saw the silhouette of his tower to the northwest, jutting out against the shifting landscape in stubborn solidity. Reluctantly, his gaze slid to the south, towards his… allies, and the sea of black sand remained. No hint of gold showed even along the horizon line.

Anger flooded his senses, forcing out the rigidly imposed calm and attempting to blacken his mood. He shoved it back ruthlessly; aware of the tenuous control he was exhibiting over the elements. The nagging thought that the Princess had released him to stand as some sort of protector between Agrabah and the Black Sand was itching at the back of his mind. Of course it was only logical that her actions were entirely self-serving. Everyone's were, including Mozenrath's. The reminder of revenge waiting to be planned was just what the sorcerer needed to put a spring back in his step.

He lifted the gauntlet to his lips, blowing the clutched grains of sand into the air as he sped through the motions of his teleportation spell with practiced grace, setting the Citadel as his target.

* * *

Mozenrath found himself staring at the familiar doors seconds later, thankfully whole. He saw the evidence of his absence immediately as the paint and nearly all of the carvings were eroded down to the barest suggestion of their former opulence. He eyed the sawdust and paint flecks surrounding the base of the wall with displeasure. In his mind, Mozenrath began keeping a roster of all the repairs Agrabah would be funding. Starting with his gates. The marble of the outer wall seemed solid enough, but he tacked on a polishing just in case. No reason to waste a good thing, after all.

The air was still but for the dark clouds speeding across the sky, casting twisted shadows. Mozenrath remained cautious. The conspicuous absence of anyone to greet him confirmed his suspicions that things were not as they appeared. A city full of mindless drones did leave one with certain expectations in regards to protocol, after all.

"Xerxes," the eel came down from where it had been examining the wall to take orders, a ferocious tenacity blooming on its face, "scout out the city. I want a report on what's been going on."

Xerxes nodded fervently. Mozenrath turned away before adding as an afterthought, "And take some guards with you."

He felt the summoning spell slide through his fingers like silk, its purpose more familiar to the gauntlet than Mozenrath himself. After a few moments of silence he grunted, frustrated, and repeated the gesture with the same ease.

Nothing.

Somewhere over his shoulder, Xerxes was doing nervous loop-de-loops, obviously confused about how to proceed. The sorcerer knelt and drew the gauntlet over the sand harshly. In response a low moan echoed across the barren landscape and the non-existent breeze swelled and fluttered along the ragged edges of his former finery, grasping at his limbs in a possessive way that nearly frightened him. He kept his voice even.

"Where are my guards?"

An alien thought brushed against his mind, the brief image of torn limbs and wreckage caught in a dark cyclone flashing momentarily, a faded stab of anger echoing in his heart. Mozenrath's lips tightened, a hissed response escaping through clenched teeth.

"You will return them. _Exactly_ the way they were."

He felt a slight abrasion against his already raw cheek at the command. Defiance. His annoyance snapped at the blatant refusal.

"You will return them, _now_. I will not ask again."

He punctuated this with a shocking release from the gauntlet he barely remembered casting. It's force pushed the surrounding presence out and away from him, the majority of the electrical discharge flying high into the darkened skies. The sand's consciousness retreated sheepishly and three disoriented Mamluks began digging themselves out of the sand at his feet.

He paid no mind to any but the Captain, a malicious smile spreading across his face.

"Good morning Destane. Have you been keeping an eye on _my_ city?"

The corpse nodded so fervently Mozenrath was sure he could hear the stitches coming loose and gestured for it to cease and desist. He circled his master's doppelganger thoughtfully, rubbing a hand down his cheek and suppressed a cringe at the length of the course hairs he found there. He really needed to shave and bathe. However, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a perfect opportunity to put the old bastard in his place.

"Is that so?" he drawled. The corpse stiffened, rotting joints creaking loudly in his ears. Mozenrath reached out with careful deliberation, watching the monster's eyes widen with fear as the gauntlet grew icy claws that gleamed in the low light.

Moments later it was prostrated on the ground in humble servitude, begging for forgiveness with a wordless show of supplication. The master was unmoved by it's plight. Light flashed across his vision as he struck, ripping across the paper-thin skin of one cheek and causing the creature to shriek in agony.

"That is a lesson in honesty," the muscles in his face tensing at the irony of the situation, he focused on adjusting the glove. "You will remember who is the master now, and not attempt to deceive me again."

The mamluk that was once the most powerful sorcerer in the world looked up, half it's face hanging in tattered strips from yellowed teeth and bone, and nodded the affirmative.

Bored with the pathetic display and temper exhausted for the time being, Mozenrath banished the creature to the dungeons to be repaired at his convenience. One clipped command sent the other two teetering off after Xerxes to patrol the city.

A push from the gauntlet and his frayed wards gave way; swinging the mutilated doors out and welcoming him back into the embrace of his palace. He strode forward with purpose, his defeats and despairs a hundred thousand miles away as he reclaimed the site of his greatest victory and the seat of his power.

There truly was no place like home.

* * *

The Princess guided the Magic Carpet to land on one of the sloping roofs overlooking the palace wall. She inched her feet along the cracked and uneven tiles carefully before choosing a seat that afforded her the best view of Agrabah's main thoroughfare. Then she waited.

To some, it may have seemed a boring exercise, but Jasmine could not have been more thrilled for the opportunity to simply watch. A childhood filled with lonely afternoons had forged her into a keen observer of others with a distinct reluctance to engage those outside of her personal sphere. Jasmine accepted that loneliness was a part of who she was, but she never missed an opportunity to see what life was like for those who weren't bound to the strict rules of the aristocracy. She allowed herself to be drawn into the drama of the commoner's world, fabricated histories swirling behind her eyes as she constructed understanding from the seemingly random comings and goings of the market place.

Somewhere underneath her excitement a nagging guilt said she should not have come back alone. That the others would worry for her safety. She ignored it. Hasim and the guards would have seen her traveling in the direction of Agrabah and known she'd gone on ahead. Carpet was not so fast as to escape their notice. The rug in question was lounging along a clothesline to her right, quite inconspicuous but for the contented sighs that rolled down it's length as it bathed in the noonday sun. She smiled at her conspirator. They had both obviously needed a break after the turmoil of the past few hours.

An explosion of air forced it's way out of her, fingers scraping down her scalp and face in frustration. She couldn't make sense of Mozenrath. One minute he's casually threatening to destroy the world, as she knows it, the next, he's claiming her as an ally to help him with some magical problem.

The man was obviously insane.

Jasmine recalled the look of excitement on his usually apoplectic face with a myriad of confusing emotions. She tried to reconcile the dangerous magician from her battle with the stoic, sarcastic boy she'd negotiated with the previous night. But every time she reached a halfway logical explanation for his behavior the sight of his smile would flash across her memory. The memory of the change in his demeanor as he assumed the mantle of scholar.

Speaking of magical problems.

A shiver wound it's way round and round her spine, drawing her attention to the little discomforts she was hardly used to bearing. Everything from the sweat on her brow to the dirt under her nails made the Princess want to tear her skin off to be clean again. She shifted on her uncomfortable perch as a loud ruckus from below drew her attention.

A tight smile wound across her face when she recognized Farouk's Fruit Stand as the source of the commotion. A small, vengeful part of her was glad that the man he was currently arguing with, a melon grower by the looks of his produce, seemed to have no intention of giving in to the foul grocer's demands. She gripped her wrist in recollection and, in her mind, began weaving a tale about rotten melons that would drive Farouk out of business. After which he would fall upon foul and desperate circumstances, causing him to come to her on his knees, begging for help. Which she would, after an appropriate length of time, grant. Her fantasy was so engaging, that time floated by without her notice.

For nearly two hours the Princess and the Magic Carpet reclined above the unknowing heads of the merchants as they went about their daily lives. Until, finally, she heard the loud proclamations of the royal processional approaching. Catching the thunderous look on the Royal Vizier's tanned features, Jasmine decided it was time to return to her duties.

* * *

"Jasmine! You're alright!"

Her father jumped down from his throne, missing several of the steps and sliding down on the soles of his shoes in his haste to be at her side. In the next instant she was leaning over, crushed in his embrace as he tested her current state of health for himself. She smiled and floated in his warm affection for several moments before he released her and addressed the guards with the same enthusiasm.

"Oh, thank you for taking care of my daughter, gentlemen! Make sure to stop by the royal treasury before you leave to receive your bonuses for a job well done. Yes, very well done indeed." She shot Rasoul a meaningful glance as he turned to follow the others out. He wouldn't be stepping foot on the same floor as the treasury any time in the near future, not if she had anything to say about it.

Which she did.

Hasim moved from the back of the processional to the Sultan's side without delay. He was dressed in another set of snappy robes, which were, unlike his former garments, dust and camel odor free. Her father turned on the man with his mouth set in a familiar familial expression of displeasure.

"What on earth were you and the counsel thinking? Sending my poor, defenseless daughter into the desert like that! She could have been killed! From what Aladdin tells me, this Mozenrath fellow is extremely dangerous. I had no idea the extent of his treachery when I agreed to set him free! An alliance is absolutely out of the question!"

She felt the glow of her success fade at her father's words. He was changing his mind now? After she'd accomplished his impossible task and gotten the sorcerer to agree to the terms? She was overwhelmingly furious at her fiancé for worrying her father while she was away. He wasn't a young man, and in less than perfect health. How could Aladdin have caused him so much anxiety? Jasmine clenched her teeth. Hasim was complacent as ever, though perhaps there was a tad more supplication in the way he addressed her father than her.

"Your Majesty, the Princess' presence was necessary so that she could express her _apologies _to Lord Mozenrath for her behavior." Jasmine refused to rise to his bait. Compared to the sorcerer, Hasim's reproachful commentary was almost teasing. "Remember there were several reasons we sought out an alliance with him in the first place and having the benefit of a royal representative was what enabled us to be successful."

Her father's reactions shifted so rapidly that she found herself unable to remember how he'd become so exuberant in the wake of his anger. He practically beamed at her in response to the Vizier's words.

"So, then, you did it! You really did it!" He hopped as he made his way over to one of the stone-faced guards that flanked the throne. The Sultan poked a chubby finger into the vest of the man in front of him.

"Did you hear that?" He turned to address the mostly empty room.

"My daughter convinced the sorcerer to let us pass through the Land of Black Sand! We're going to be able to re-open negotiations with the Northerners! Oh, just wait until I contact the Sheik of Kaput! He is going to be so thrilled!"

Jasmine's heart swelled with pride at his recognition, but logic held her back. He still had no idea of the cost of Mozenrath's cooperation. She discreetly eyed the royal vizier and found him staring straight at her, a look of bland obstinacy on his face.

Obviously he had no intention of helping her out with the telling.

Jasmine sighed heavily.

No place like home.

* * *

It was sunset before Aladdin finally showed his face. By that time Jasmine's fury had simmered down to Luke-warm displeasure after spending half the day explaining the conditions of Mozenrath's cooperation to a shocked audience consisting of her father and the senior members of his staff. Defending her actions was not something she'd been prepared to do and the Princess feared she hadn't performed to her reluctant mentor's standards. It was difficult for her to remain angry with Aladdin when the furious activity of the past few days was behind her and all she felt was bone-deep exhaustion.

The processional that entered her rooms after dinner was full of anything but the worry-plagued fear mongers she'd expected. Jasmine might have just returned from a day trip to some exotic oasis for all the concern her companions displayed. Instead, they carried on as if some great victory had just been won. Her heart lurched in enthusiasm, hoping and hating the thought that they might be proud of what she'd accomplished. A part of her reasoned that they couldn't know all the details and she dreaded a repeat performance of this afternoon.

Her eye twitched, she rubbed it soothingly.

Aladdin greeted her with the kind of wet, smacking kisses she'd never been fond of and returned to the discussion he'd been having with the others before their arrival with barely a word spoken to her.

"So anyway, we get there, and all the traders are holed up in this cave, refusing to let us in because they think we're "sand monsters". Now they'd been there a while and supplies were running low so Genie thought…"

The jinn in question took over at this point. "Why not magic them up some dinner? That ought to soften 'em up." Aladdin was quick to jump back in when Genie paused to conjure a chicken leg as an example.

"Only it doesn't. As soon as Genie lets the magic fly, all the traders turn on us with whatever weapons they've got and try to run us out into the sandstorm." He turned to her then, flashing a smile.

"It's a good thing you took carpet with you Jaz. He wouldn't have been able to make heads or tails in that wind. Better Genie took us."

Jasmine nodded as if she knew what they were talking about. When Aladdin moved back to the others she decided her involvement was concluded and poured herself another glass of water to sip as he continued. Not talking was a blessing in itself and the softest suggestion of sleep was tugging at her. She listened to the rhythm of Aladdin's speech for a few minutes before something occurred to her. She returned the glass to the table with more force than she'd intended.

"Wait a minute. What do you mean 'It's better I took Carpet'? What have you been up to since I left?"

The scene around her grew very still, Aladdin caught in some violent pose probably meant to demonstrate how he'd bested some sand monster and everyone else caught indefinitely in the realm of bated breath while their need for air began to slowly assert itself.

Iago was the first to react, as usual.

"What! You mean you don't know? So much for palace gossip! Ya know, I never thought being royalty meant you could be that far out of the loop. I mean come on! What happened to good old-fashioned sp-"

He was silenced by Aladdin's grip on his beak, which Jasmine was grateful for. Something about the bird's tone was setting her teeth on edge. He posed yet again, broad stance, arms crossed, cocky smile firmly in place, before revealing his secret.

"Me and Genie went looking for the missing traders and we found them. Just got back half an hour ago."

Jasmine practically jumped to her feet.

"H-how many? How many did you find?" Her heart was beating like a drum, his enthusiasm finally catching.

Aladdin took her in his arms, bestowing another sloppy kiss before looking her in the eyes with barely contained glee.

"Forty-seven."

Her excitement died. Her voice was soft and reluctant to respond.

"Forty-seven? Are you sure that was all? The manifestos documented almost twice that number."

Aladdin didn't look away or flinch, to his credit. His gaze settled into something like necessity, mouth retracting to a determined curve of optimism.

"Forty-Seven. We counted them ourselves when we presented them to your father. I thought your meeting with Mozenrath was the perfect distraction to help us slip behind enemy lines. And it worked."

She tried to retain her lighthearted expression, tried to feel something other than horror at the lives lost, but Jasmine knew she failed. There were some things life simply hadn't prepared her for yet. Aladdin's calloused thumb trailed down her cheek, catching a tear she didn't realize she'd lost. His mouth contorted into an almost smile as his brow softened.

"Jasmine…"

Over his shoulder, she caught the jinn's gaze, that yawning chasm of eternity, and his solemn nod that told her this was the way of the world and not a reflection on her.

But the pain weighed on her just the same.

Her friends allowed her to fade into the background, Rajah's comforting warmth on her thigh, the soothing tones of their banter in her ears. No one seemed to care about the outcome of her mission, and she couldn't say she blamed them after hearing Aladdin's exciting recounts of his secret mission. As usual, her fiancé had managed to find a direct solution to the problem that didn't require politics or cunning. Once again he'd proven himself the hero and her the decoy damsel.

Too tired to be properly angry with this or any of the other offenses leveled at her in the past 48 hours, Jasmine allowed herself to sink into the upholstery of her mother's divan, conscious thought a thing of the past as sleep embraced her.

.

.

.

She awoke a few hours later as Aladdin gently shook her arm. The lights were low in the late hour and something antiquated in Jasmine said he should not be in her rooms at this time. Did he want to expose them to the ridicule of the public? She sniffed her nose and stretched, her neck stiff and uncooperative. Aladdin offered her a glass of water, and she downed it quickly. After all the talking she'd done over the past few days the Princess felt as if she'd brought the desert back in her throat.

The water was a welcome relief.

He sat beside her and laughed half-heartedly at her gusto.

"Yeah, the desert has a tendency to suck the life out of you… How are you feeling? Apart from thirsty, that is… I know it couldn't have been easy for you, making a deal with that murderer…" He trailed off with a growl that disturbed her more than his thinking of Mozenrath as a murderer.

They didn't know much about the sorcerer's shortcomings outside of his fetish for kidnapping and tendency towards threats. What had gotten into Aladdin?

Her face must have displayed her concern because a moment later he pulled back from the precipice of anger.

"I'm fine. Tired. It was a lot to take in. Mozenrath's world view is very… harsh."

Aladdin shot up from his seat to pace in front of her.

"Well it should be, considering that desert of his. You should have seen it Jaz. The storms… The monsters… It was horrible. Those traders are going to remember that place for the rest of their lives. I'm going to remember it! We almost didn't make it out."

Jasmine felt his pain for the people he'd saved. She tried to steer him away from the hurt and anger.

"How did you survive? Was Genie's magic more powerful than the sand?"

His reply was solemn.

"No."

Jasmine gripped the edges of the couch.

"When the traders forced us out into the storm, we thought we were goners. Twisted nightmares were coming at us from all sides. Genie couldn't hold his shield. But then, without any warning, it stopped. By the time we'd hiked to the mouth of the cave again, everything was so still you'd have thought there never was a storm."

She didn't reply. Her head was swimming, trying to make sense of it all. Aladdin placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I didn't want to wake you yet, I think you need your rest, but Genie said you'd want to see this." His face transformed into a devilish smile. "Do you want to find out if we managed to trick the tricky wizard?"

Jasmine answered with a sinister sneer of her own.

"Oh yes."

.

.

.

Some half discovered curiosity about magic prompted her to ask increasingly detailed questions on how the spell was supposed to work during the time it took the jinn to clear her vanity of all possessions. Genie was more than happy to explain the basics in an airy, detached manner that suggested he found the entire task overwhelmingly simple, and far too complicated for his human companions.

Jasmine was beginning to suspect that arrogance was a side effect of magic use.

"Well Princess, to put it simply, I put a modified tracking charm on the staff. As soon as it made contact with Mozenrath the spell should have attached to him, hence the reason why no one else could touch."

He said this while holding a staring contest with his reflection in the mirror, reaching out every few moments to flick an invisible piece of lint away from the glass. She was still unclear as to how rearranging her room was going to help them spy on the sorcerer. She vocalized this with controlled annoyance.

"Patience Princess. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"Where?"

"Never mind, now if I could just… find… AH HAH! There you are! You're a clever kid; I'll give you that. But I betcha didn't expect THIS!"

The Genie abruptly put two fingers into the surface of the mirror up to the second knuckle and pulled. When he moved his hand away, Jasmine felt disoriented. The reflection didn't match the interior of her room. Even in the darkness covering the mirror scene, she could see the outlines of alien furnishings with; she repressed an unladylike snort of amusement, a tendency towards spiky embellishments.

"Amazing Genie! You did it!" came Aladdin's voice over her shoulder.

Somewhere to the left, a window was sending a weak column of moonlight across the floor. It's path disrupted by a number of clothing articles, including a lump of blue turban, one black boot and a red sash. Jasmine pulled back when her breath misted on the glass, distorting the image. She turned back to Aladdin and Genie with her face the same color as Iago's. When had she gotten so close?

"Ok I'll admit it's impressive, but, where's Mozenrath?" She deflected.

Genie fixed her with an I-already-told-you stare and pointed back to the mirror.

When she looked back a small, but distinctively intentional moment occurred in a darkened corner containing the largest piece of furniture. Her magical voyeurism grew bolder when she realized that there was the faint sound of snoring vibrating along the glass. Jasmine's nose was nearly touching the image when a pale foot emerged into the moonlight, causing her to jump halfway out of her skin.

There was Mozenrath, all right. Sound asleep and having a vivid nightmare, if his thrashing was anything to go by. The reality of her accomplishment hovered around her head, refusing to absorb. Genie was patting himself on the back for his ingenious spell work while her fiancé twirled her in the air.

"You did it Jasmine! Thanks to you and Genie we're going to be able to keep an eye on Mozenrath and make sure he doesn't hurt anyone ever again!"

Still not entirely convinced they'd managed to pull the wool over the sorcerer's eyes and too tired to point out how grandiose Aladdin's predictions were, Jasmine accepted their praise with cautious optimism…

Before shuffling the pair of them out of her room so she could get some rest.

* * *

A/N- Happy New Years everyone! This chapter is extra-long, to make up for my extended absence. You guys are so super awesome and I thank everyone for their encouraging comments that helped me find the energy pick up things where I left off.

Which brings me to a point I am looking for help on. This is my first uploaded story and I am, unfortunatly, lacking a beta. Re-reading my chapters has only illustrated to me how difficult it is to proof read your own stuff and I am wondering if there is anyone out there willing to put up with my atrocious errors? If you are, just message me and I will be so grateful! Plussss... I'll be able to get stuff posted faster!

Now, this chapter is kind of introducing some things that will be important throughout the story, lots of little plot points here and there. Please let me know if anything was too confusing.

Just one more giant, huge, mega-hug for all my wonderful reviewers! Thank you for taking the time and for all of your flattering comments. I literally blush like a school girl every time I read them.

Next time... Mozenrath deals with homeland security, Jasmine gets a crash course in the real life challenges of ruling, and Aladdin finds a new obsession. See you there!


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